Scornful Scones

by Mildred Abbott

  “You know you’re going to have to use all of your profits to buy me a new wardrobe when I can’t fit into anything in my closet.”

  “Money well spent.” She smacked the countertop. “No price is too high to get you out of those drab baby-poop colors you love so much.”

  “I’d call you a bad name right now if you hadn’t just given me a scone.” I took a bite and closed my eyes to savor for a second before continuing. “You’re right, however. I can’t keep from thinking about Athena. She had more than an ample motive to want Eustace dead. She said as much. She hated the man. But I’m willing to bet she hated Sally Apple more. It’s one thing for somebody to hurt you; it’s another when they go after your family, especially a kid or grandchild.”

  Katie grimaced. “I don’t want to think of her like that. I really like Athena.”

  “Me too.”

  Katie brightened. “That doesn’t make any sense on why she would use Carla’s, though.”

  “Doesn’t it? It was her review of the coffee shop that made Eustace take away the job she really wanted at the paper, and made it where she couldn’t do it anywhere else in town.”

  “Oh, right. I forgot.” Her expression fell again. “I don’t want it to be her, though. I want it to be another town council member. One of the ones who gave Paulie such a hard time when he was opening his pet shop.”

  “Really?” That surprised me. “I didn’t know you and Paulie—”

  A loud knocking cut me off.

  Watson let out a yelp and ran to the top of the steps, then glared back at me as if wanting to know why I was moving so slowly.

  The knocking became banging.

  “Well, that’s unusual.” Katie began to walk around the counter. “Either someone’s in desperate need of caffeine, or something is up.”

  “I’ll check. You’ve got lots of work to do. You don’t have to come.” I headed toward Watson.

  “Right, that’s how this is going to play out. Two people died from scones, and everyone in town knows Winifred Page has a knack for finding out who killed who. You may need more than a corgi as your bodyguard.”

  “If someone was coming to hurt me, I hardly think they’d knock.” I reached Watson but didn’t put up any more protest. Katie had a point. If somebody wanted to hurt me, as devoted as Watson might be, I might require more than a cute, moody ball of dog treats and fluff to come to my aid.

  The silhouetted form peering into the front door became clearer as we approached.

  Katie paused a few feet away. “We were just talking about Nick a few minutes ago. A little strange that he’d show up.”

  I spared her a glance. “You worked with him for a while. He doesn’t make you nervous, does he? I always got the sense that you liked him.”

  “I did, a lot. I do. He’s hard to get to know. I think more than anything, I feel sorry for him, but”—she shrugged—“let’s be careful.”

  “I always am.” I ignored Katie’s scoff and unlocked the door. “Nick, what in the world are you doing…?” I noticed the scar on his lip and realized my mistake. “Oh. Ben, hi. I was going to call you tonight about the job. Don’t you have school this morning?”

  He stepped past me, not waiting for an invitation. “I skipped it. I needed to see you.”

  Ben halted as he noticed Katie and Watson. Then he stuck out his hand. “Hey, I’m Ben, Nick’s brother. We never met. You’re Katie, right? He always talked about how nice you were when you worked together.”

  Katie accepted the handshake and visibly relaxed. “I don’t know how anyone could be anything but nice to Nick. He’s a sweetheart.”

  “That’s exactly why I’m here. Nick is—” He stopped when Watson nudged his shin with his head. It appeared there was a third man in Watson’s life who’d somehow won his affection. Ben bent down, murmuring softly to Watson as he stroked his head, and smiled gently. He only took a few moments before standing, his expression turning serious once more. “The police arrested Nick this morning for Mr. Beaker and Ms. Apple’s deaths.”

  Perhaps it shouldn’t have surprised me, but it did, somehow. And there was a twinge of something at his words. I couldn’t quite tell what it was. Some combination of irritation that I hadn’t determined the killer before the police and that I misjudged Nick so poorly. I considered myself better at reading people than that.

  Katie and I exchanged glances, neither of us sure what to say.

  “Oh. I see.” Ben looked back and forth between us. Despite how easygoing he’d seemed the other day, I saw clear frustration that transitioned to condemnation in his eyes. “I expected more of you than that.” His lips moved silently before he found words again. “I thought you were different. Thought you’d see past all the whispered rumors about us.”

  I took a step forward. “Ben, I haven’t heard any rumors. At least nothing outside of Nick being held back because of Ms. Apple’s class, and knowing that Mr. Beaker didn’t treat him very well.”

  He clearly didn’t believe me. Again, it seemed like he was struggling with what to say, then shook his head and started to walk past me. “Never mind. Clearly I was wrong.”

  Without thinking I reached out and grabbed his wrist before he got to the door. “Wait. I’m not sure how we upset you. What did you want to say?”

  He shook his head once more, started to walk off, then paused. “Everybody knows that you solve murders. I came here to ask you to figure out who killed those two people and clear my brother’s name. I swear to you he didn’t do it. He never would.” His brown eyes searched mine, and then his lips thinned. “But you don’t believe me. Why would you?” That time he did jerk his arm free and stormed from the shop.

  Watson whined, and trotted along the window, following Ben’s trail until he disappeared from view.

  Katie and I simply stood, frozen, then stared at each other. Katie spoke first. “I agree with him, Fred. Whether he had reasons or not, he couldn’t do it. He just wouldn’t.”

  I nearly laughed. “You were just saying we should be careful if we let him in.”

  “I know. And I’m ashamed of that now.” Her cheeks flushed. “If anybody should know better than to listen to rumors and judge a kid from them, it should be me.”

  “You’ve heard rumors about Nick?”

  She nodded. “About the Pacheco family in general. But it does seem Nick is the one most often singled out—the quieter one, the weirder one.”

  “You never mentioned it. Even when I told you I was thinking I was going to hire Ben.”

  She let out a frustrated breath. “I know. And I’ve been debating on it, but I decided not to say anything. For those very reasons. They’re just rumors. Like I said, we both know that there’ve been plenty of rumors about me. And they weren’t true. A kid shouldn’t have to pay for their parents’ mistakes.”

  “What are the rumors?” I couldn’t help myself.

  Katie’s eyes narrowed, and I could see her stubborn streak rising to the surface. A quality we both shared.

  “He’s been arrested, Katie, for two murders. Surely whatever rumors you’ve heard aren’t as big as that.”

  “You’re right.” She sighed as her shoulders slumped. “Rumors of dealing drugs, being the outcast. You know, all the rumors that go along with a kid anytime they’re different or seem sad and quiet. Like they expect him to have a list of fellow students who’ve been mean to him and is just waiting to get revenge on.”

  In one way, from the brief glimpses I’d had of him, I could sort of understand that generalization, but still. “I just spoke to the king and queen of gossip last night. They didn’t mention anything about that. How in the world do you know gossip they don’t?”

  “Anna and Carl aren’t kids; they’re not in school. There were some things Tiffany mentioned when I worked at Black Bear Roaster. She didn’t believe them, but she didn’t exactly stand up for him at school, either.”

  Even if they weren’t in school, I was certain with Nick being arrested, all t
he adults in the town were about to be privy to whatever rumors their children were spreading about Nick, true or not. “Your gut says he didn’t do it?”

  It looked like Katie started to nod but caught herself. “Doesn’t yours?”

  “I don’t know. My gut has been a mess lately. I kept thinking that—” I realized what I was about to say a heartbeat before I said it. I’d thought Eustace had been poisoned, when he choked, as if that was proof my guts weren’t trustworthy. But I’d been right. How had I forgotten that so soon? I blinked, shook to clear my head, and then met Katie’s gaze. “Yeah. It does.”

  “You’ve gotta be kidding me, Fred.” Branson’s voice on the other end of the line sounded more exasperated than anything.

  “I’m just saying I think there are some other angles to consider besides Nick. In fact…” I paused as a couple of people entered the Cozy Corgi, but they walked past me with a small wave and joined the rest of the crowd that was gathering in the bakery. With the Black Bear Roaster closed until further notice, everyone was going to Katie’s. I was certain it would be a good hour or two until anyone thought about shopping for books, so I’d taken the time to call Branson.

  “In fact what?” Though he still sounded exasperated, I didn’t catch any irritation in his tone.

  “Sorry. People were walking by, and I didn’t want to be overheard.” I regathered my thoughts. “What I was going to say is, I think there are some other options. I didn’t realize that Eustace and Sally were both on the town council. Maybe this is more of a town council issue than something revolving around the coffee shop.”

  He paused for long enough that for a moment I wondered if we’d lost the connection. “Fred, I do respect you, and I’m truly impressed by your skills and instincts. But I need you to give me a little credit here. Just because you didn’t know they were both on the town council doesn’t mean that I wasn’t aware of that fact. I know you’ve beaten the Estes Park Police Department in solving the last few murders, but that doesn’t prove we’re complete morons.”

  All right, maybe I was picking up on some irritation. Before my own temper flared, I realized that he had a point. I also managed to catch my next instinct in time to keep from bringing up my suspicions of Athena Rose. I didn’t want to throw someone else under the bus before I gathered more proof or facts, if there were any to be found.

  “Fred? Are you still there?”

  “Yeah. Sorry.” Now I was on the phone with him, I wasn’t sure what to say. Or, even why I’d called. Had I really expected to call and tell him that my gut told me Nick hadn’t committed the murders and he’d go, Sure, fine, I’ll release him right now. “He didn’t do it, Branson. I can just feel it. Something doesn’t add up.” Apparently, I could tell him that it was simply a gut feeling.

  “That’s all you’ve got? You just know? Can you at least explain what doesn’t add up?”

  I didn’t figure out what to say quickly enough, and he launched in again.

  “From what I’ve gathered, Nick is one of those troubled kids, Fred. I know it’s awful to think that someone so young could already be past saving, but maybe that’s the case with him. He’s been on our radar for a while. Hadn’t found any proof up until this point, but I wish we had. Could have prevented some deaths.”

  “What proof do you have that he did this now?” I was the one sounding irritated. The tenor of my own voice only caused the sensation to grow as I knew I seemed irrational.

  “Oh, come on.” A small laugh burst from him, a dark one. “It’s a long list. He was there for both murders, and there’re eyewitnesses who can testify to him serving Sally the scone. Of which, you are one, unless you’ve forgotten.” I could practically see him in my mind, numbering things off on his fingers. “Sally’s purse with the EpiPen was behind the counter. She wouldn’t have put it there. Someone else had to have done so. He could’ve easily slid it off the counter while she and Miss Morris were ordering. And Nick, just like all the students, knew about her banana allergy. It was severe enough that it was talked about with students and parents so they didn’t bring any banana products into the classroom, ever. Banana was found in three of the jars of apple butter. Those jars had his fingerprints on them.”

  It was the first thing I thought I could argue with and I jumped on it. “He works there, of course his fingerprints were on them.” Even as I said it, my conviction began to waver.

  “Oh, Fred, come on.” He sighed and for a second he reminded me of my ex-husband. When Garrett would say I was being foolish or thinking like a woman instead of someone rational. Once again, I wondered why I’d stayed with him as long as I had. Maybe that memory brought the answer to my mind. “Well, there you go. If Nick was the one who slipped bananas into Sally Apple’s apple butter, you said it yourself—he served it to her. Why would he put banana in three of the jars? Seems a little overkill, doesn’t it?”

  “Because…” Branson paused again, and I heard an intake of breath, and then a little chuckle. “You know, that’s a good question.”

  “Of course it is.” I couldn’t help myself.

  He laughed, that time for real. “So sure of yourself, aren’t you?” He didn’t wait for a reply. “I really love that about you.”

  And any comparison to my ex-husband faded away. As did any ability to figure out what to say next.

  Branson saved me from that particular issue. “Any other loopholes in my theory you can see? And I really do want to know.”

  I could tell by his tone that he did. And I appreciated it. “No, not at the moment, but I’ll keep thinking.” I so wished I had a different answer to that.

  “Please do. I want to make sure we have the right person to pay for these murders, not just a scapegoat.”

  “Then… you’ll let Nick go?”

  There was a long pause. “No. Not yet. Let me think about it. I’m not going to move too fast. I want to do this correctly. No matter which way it goes. Even with that question, we have more than enough evidence that points directly at Nick, and motive. And not just with Sally Apple. From both Carla and Tiffany’s testimonies, it sounds like Eustace Beaker said pretty derogatory things to that kid on a regular basis. Not surprising considering Eustace, but maybe more than a high school senior can manage and deal with. Even so, doesn’t mean murder is the right way to go.”

  I couldn’t argue with his logic. Even if my gut still screamed that Nick didn’t do it. I scrambled to think of some other argument, some other thing that would poke a sizable hole into the evidence pointing at Nick, but I couldn’t.

  “Fred?”

  The hesitant tone of Branson’s voice both surprised me and brought me out of my head. “Yeah?”

  “Don’t let this hurt where we’re headed, okay? I’m not shutting you out. I’m not ignoring you. I’m not insulting your intelligence or your ability. But where we are with the case, right now, this is where everything points. I can’t very well use ‘Winifred Page’s gut said the kid didn’t do it and I’m going to listen to her’ as a legitimate reason to drop the charges against Nick.” He rushed ahead before I could respond. “I will say this. You’ve made me wonder, and I’ll keep looking at other angles. I would’ve anyway, but I’ll do so even more now. That’s gotta be good enough. Don’t hold it against me for doing my job.”

  Where were we headed? A surge of anxiety rocketed through me at that thought.

  “Fred?”

  There was that almost-beseeching tone again. “I won’t. I know how police work goes, remember? I won’t hold it against you.”

  By the time I locked up the Cozy Corgi, I felt spent, both physically and emotionally. The morning had been devoted to my concerns over Nick, trying to determine exactly why I felt so strongly he was innocent. Branson was right; he did have motive. Plenty. He also had opportunity in spades. But yet, I couldn’t see him doing it.

  Every time that thought ran through my head, I couldn’t help but chide myself. I hadn’t bothered to learn the kid’s name until a few days
before, yet there I was emphatic that the police had taken in the wrong person. What was that about?

  And even that, the waffling back and forth and questioning of my gut feelings, where was that coming from? If anything, I should trust my gut more than ever after the last several months.

  Something about this situation was throwing me off, making me doubt my instincts. I thought it was Carla, or my guilt around her, well-placed or not. When I moved to Estes, there wasn’t a bookshop in town. I wasn’t going into competition with anyone or having to worry about whether my choices would impact their livelihood. Even then, Carla and I hadn’t been very chummy, but once Katie opened her bakery, things truly went south. And I couldn’t blame Carla. Estes was a small town. And sure, the summer months were flush with tourists and cash, but most businesses had to hoard that cash to make it through the winter. Not only was the Cozy Corgi now a very real competition for Carla, but I was sticking my nose into the death of her father-in-law.

  Or… maybe… my possible relationship with Branson was throwing me off.

  I turned the key in the deadbolt and glared at the door handle like it was at fault, then looked down at Watson, who was staring at me with that expression that said, Mom’s being weird again. He wasn’t wrong. How long had I been standing there lost in my thoughts?

  “You know what, Watson? Enough. I’m beating myself up for no reason. There’s been a world of change over the past few months, and just as many dead bodies. A person is allowed to take some time to adjust.”

  Watson offered neither commentary nor insight, only chuffed and pulled at his leash.

  “Fine. You raise a good point. Too much overthinking and introspection will drive us insane. Let’s go home.”

  We’d barely taken two steps when I glanced across the street and saw Carl and Anna both staring at us from the windows of Cabin and Hearth. They’d probably been watching me standing transfixed at the door the entire time. They both waved, unconcerned about being caught staring, and I waved back. They turned and disappeared into the shop.