Cruel Candy

by Mildred Abbott

Conversations with my dog? I glanced down at Watson, who peered up at me. Huh. I hadn’t actually thought of that. “You know, I suppose I do.”

  “He’s a cute little fella. And we do have dog treats here. I know you’re worried about him becoming a log, but he would be an adorable log.”

  Watson yipped at his favorite word.

  I ignored him. “No, thank you. He’s had enough. And as funny as it might be, I wouldn’t consider myself a very good corgi mama if I got Watson high.”

  Confusion crossed the man’s features, and then he shook his head. “Oh no, the dog treats are just boring old dog treats. None of the good stuff in them.”

  Another yip from Watson.

  The man pulled on his handlebar mustache. “Well, even if your dog can’t have a treat, we’ve got lots of treats for you. Any you’d like to check out?”

  Watson growled. I glared at him, then cast the same expression on the man. “You’ve got to quit saying that word.”

  More confusion. “What word?”

  I pointed at Watson as I mouthed, “Treat.”

  His bloodshot eyes widened, and then he smiled. “Oh. Of course. Sorry.” He considered for a moment, pulled on his mustache again. “Well then, any delicacies you’d like to try?”

  With the second pull of his handlebar mustache, the full picture of his costume came together, and I realized it wasn’t a costume at all. The brown fedora with a small red feather, skintight goldenrod-colored shirt under an equally skintight silk vest, gray scarf, and vivid tattoos covering his thin arms, which were revealed by his rolled-up sleeves. He was a hipster. But not like the ones we had back in Kansas City, at least not like any I’d seen. I tried to focus on the task at hand.

  I was disconcerted enough being in a dispensary, but the unexpected combination of designer ambience and an updated version of Mark Twain as a drug pusher was throwing me off. “I… er… honestly, I’ve never been in a store like this before. I’m not really sure where to start.”

  His eyes glinted. “A virgin. Looks like school is in session.” He gestured to different locations around the store. “What do you think you are most interested in? Smoking, vaping, tinctures, oils, edibles?”

  Tinctures? “Uhm… edibles?”

  “Edibles!” He nodded sagely. “That’s what I thought. You look like an edibles type of girl.”

  Again he took my words away. I looked like an edibles type of girl? I wasn’t certain if it was a commentary on my weight or not. And as I was at least fifteen years older than the guy, I wasn’t sure he should be calling me girl.

  He didn’t seem to notice my discomfort, talking to me as he turned and headed across the store to the case with the red-velvet brownie I’d been eyeing. “Edibles are a great place to begin. A lot of people are less nervous around them. You do have to be careful with consumption, though. It’s easy to get too much if you don’t know what you’re doing or if you’re not sure of the quality or quantity of marijuana in the product. I can guarantee you everything we sell here at the Green Munchies is the highest of industry standards, and I’ll be able to guide you on the right dosage on whatever you choose.” He came to a stop behind the counter, placing both hands on the glass, the lights from the overarching oval casting strange shadows over his features. “The name is Eddie, by the way.”

  I was still trying to process his spiel, and it took me a moment to land on the appropriate response. “I’m Fred. And this is Watson.” I had a moment of panic, wondering if I should have come up with an alias. Too late now, and probably silly to even consider. It wasn’t like I was undercover or anything. Or that I was a detective at all, for that matter. I was an ex-professor, turned ex-publisher, turned bookstore owner. That was it.

  Eddie pointed at small squares of fudge which had a layer of pecans, swirls of caramel, and crystalline chunks of salt. Mouthwatering. I was going to have to give myself a similar lecture about treats as the one I’d given to Watson.

  “These are one of our more popular items. And what I would recommend to someone trying edibles for the first time. It’s easy to cut off the amount you need. You can freeze it, and it’s just as good later on. That’s not always true with some of the baked items.” He then pointed to a smooth glistening bar of chocolate. “Of course, this is the same sort of deal, if your tastes run more simply. We also offer a punch card. You get twenty-five percent off a future order once you’ve spent five hundred dollars. Enrolling is free, and I highly recommend it.”

  I suddenly felt like I was being pressured to sign up for Amway or getting a membership to Costco. This was what buying pot was like?

  My father was killed before marijuana became legal anywhere in the country. I was certain none of his undercover drug dealings had ever resembled this. I couldn’t even fathom what he would say or think if he stepped into Green Munchies, or what he’d make of Eddie.

  The thought made me want to bolt. Dad had been on my mind too much over the past day. It made sense, I knew, but it was leaving me shaky. Maybe coming here had been a mistake. At least at the moment. I’d buy something quickly so I’d leave a good impression and get back to Estes. “I’ll just get whatever you recommend.”

  No sooner had the words left my mouth than I could swear I felt my father’s disapproval. Or maybe it was just Watson still glowering at me after denying him a treat. Either way, I couldn’t waste this moment. But how to turn the conversation without causing suspicion?

  The answer was obvious. “My stepdad, Barry, recommended your shop. However, he didn’t tell me what he normally gets. Chances are low you remember him or his order.” That was a lie. If Eddie had ever been in here when Barry came knocking, I had no doubt he would remember. Although, who knew? Maybe in the dispensary business, characters like Barry were a dime a dozen.

  “Barry?” Eddie’s voice brightened and lost every ounce of its professional tenor. “Tie-dyed, hippy Barry from Estes Park? That Barry?”

  I nodded. Apparently not a dime a dozen.

  “Dude! That old guy is dope! Like he’s the real thing.” Eddie cocked his head, studying me. “Wait a minute, you’re his daughter? And you’ve never tried pot before?”

  “Stepdaughter.”

  “Ahhh.” He nodded. “Right. That makes sense, I suppose. Well, I will definitely hook you up. And to top it off, I’ll go ahead and give you the twenty-five percent discount today. I love that guy. Meant a lot that even though he could’ve purchased in Estes, he’d drive all the way down here to the source. A percentage is a percentage, don’t get me wrong, but it helps me out when customers come directly to my place.” Eddie pulled out what looked like an expensive candy box, and began to fill it with an assortment of brownies, chocolate-covered pretzels, a few cellophane-wrapped hard pieces of candy, and gummy bears. “I assume you want his normal?”

  This was his normal? If Barry was buying this much, I marveled he was able to keep his stash away from Mom. “Sure. That’s great.”

  He continued to fill the box as he spoke. “But seriously, Barry is awesome. Super chill, and like straight-up legit. I swear he taught me a thing or two about how to smoke up.”

  Good God. If he kept going, I was afraid I was going to learn things about Barry I definitely didn’t want to know. Something Eddie said echoed in my mind as he prattled on, and I sucked in a little gasp.

  Eddie glanced at me. “You okay?”

  I nodded, trying to determine how upfront to be. I decided to go for it. “You said Barry comes to the source? Does that mean Opal got her… supplies from you?”

  Eddie jerked, his expression growing dark. Apparently he hadn’t realized how much he’d said.

  I’d already messed things up. That was fast.

  He considered for a moment, then shrugged, though he didn’t look any happier. “You’re Barry’s girl, so you’re dope by association.” He leaned forward, his voice lowering not so much to whisper but in anger. “Don’t get me wrong, I’m a pacifist, but I’m not going to lie. I heard what happened to Op
al. I’m not shedding any tears. People like her deserve what they get.”

  I pressed a little further; why not? “Yeah, Barry seems not to be her biggest fan either. Which, you’ve met my stepdad. He likes everybody.”

  “Exactly!” Eddie practically snarled. “Sid and I had a good thing going for years. I’d grow the stuff, give him a fair price, didn’t demand too much share of the profit. It was chill. Easy, cordial. Granted, what he did with all those animals wigged me out. I’m a pacifist, like I said.” He shuddered but kept going. “Then he started dating that candy woman, and she convinced him they could make a ton more money if they started growing their own product.” He straightened, holding his arms out as if he was being crucified. “You know how much I have to pay for the license to grow? How much inspection I have to endure? And she thinks she can just walk in, do it all behind closed doors, and reap all the profit? Like I said, I didn’t do her in, but she had it coming.”

  She had it coming. That seemed the theme around Opal Garble. And she’d been dating Sid? That was news, but I didn’t want to let on I hadn’t known that part. “She was stealing business from you and getting away with it without having to pay any of the fees and go through all the red tape. Why didn’t you turn her in?”

  “Believe me, I threatened to. Course that evil woman just laughed. Told me to go ahead. Said she’d bring me down with her.”

  “How could she do that? You said yourself you’re already paying the fees and going through inspections.”

  Behind his handlebar mustache, Eddie’s cheeks turned bright red. “Yeah, but I was also supplying Sid with product. And Estes Park, with its holier-than-thou attitude, still refuses to let a dispensary inside its town borders.” His snarl was back. “As much as I hate to admit it, there was no way I could take Opal down without doing the same thing to myself.”

  “Ah. I suppose that makes sense.” It really did. And it looked like Mom and Barry were probably right. With Opal seeming to be comfortable blackmailing and threatening people, the three dead husbands probably weren’t even on the radar. I refocused on Eddie, remembering I needed to play the part of Barry’s dope stepdaughter, not that I was really sure what it meant. “Man. That really does suck. Well, at least you know you did things the right way and you don’t have to worry about Opal anymore.”

  “True story.” Eddie smiled and relaxed again, another twinkle glowing in his eyes. “Plus, I’m betting another bakery will open to replace whatever shop Opal had. Maybe I’ll get my foot in the door once more.”

  I forced a friendly shrug. “One can hope.”

  “No doubt!” Eddie held up the box that was nearly filled to running over. “This look all right for you?”

  What in the world was I going to do with all of that? “Looks great, thanks!”

  “Awesome.” Eddie beamed like he’d expected me to say no. “Good thing I’m already giving you a twenty-five percent discount. You’re gonna get your money’s worth today!” He shut the box and pulled out a green ribbon to tie around it. Definitely not what I expected from a dispensary. “I almost feel sacrilegious for asking this of Barry’s stepdaughter, but do you want me to go over how to use this and figure out portion size?”

  I shook my head, feeling queasy at the thought. “No, but thank you. I’m sure Barry will make sure I get it all right.”

  An alarm clock that probably wasn’t much younger than me blinked large red numbers from across the dark bedroom. Nearly three in the morning. I was tempted to get up and turn the clock to face the wall so I couldn’t see its taunting, but Watson’s soft snores drifted up from beside the bed. I didn’t want to disturb him.

  At least one of us was sleeping.

  I kept reminding myself I didn’t need to solve Opal’s murder. That hadn’t been the point. I simply needed to get enough information to cause probable doubt against Barry. Even if it felt like simply meeting Barry once was enough probable doubt in regards to murder. I felt like I already had more than enough. I could take it all to the police, offer it up on a silver platter—or better suited, in the designer box with the green ribbon—and let them have at it.

  If it was that simple, I probably wouldn’t be tossing all night, turning over endless possibilities in my mind. What little research Mom and Barry had done on Opal’s dead husbands while I’d been at Lyons revealed nothing. At least no more than what everyone else already seemed to know. Three husbands over the span of decades—three dead husbands. And while casual gossip held Opal responsible, no genuine allegations had ever been laid at her feet. Plus, the most recent death had been long enough ago that if the husband’s families were going to raise a stink, they would have done so before now. Mom and Barry both thought it was a dead end. However, the saying was that revenge is best served cold. Maybe in this case it got served with a rolling pin.

  In the dark of night, something about that scenario didn’t sit right with me. I couldn’t put my finger on why. I simply didn’t think her black-widow status had led to her death. After talking to Eddie, I had one more person Opal had either tried to blackmail or threatened. And I’d only been asking questions for a little over a day. My hunch was the list would end up being a long Who’s Who of Estes Park. Recreational marijuana use might be legal in Colorado, but it seemed Estes Park was its own entity. Sheltered on all sides by the mountains and secluded in its own way of life. It was one thing to threaten a guy like Barry. Mom would be the only one to be surprised or to care that he partook in magic brownies from time to time. But what other secrets were out there? Who else might Opal have blackmailed? Maybe she had finally crossed the wrong person.

  Watson let out a long whine in his sleep. Probably dreaming of treats. He’d given me the cold shoulder as we drove back to Estes.

  I twisted again and readjusted to curl around one of the pillows. And maybe it had nothing to do with threatening or blackmail. Eddie didn’t seem any more capable of murder than Barry, but he was definitely angry. Maybe he’d been a little too emphatic about being a pacifist. I thought I was fairly good at reading people, but who knew? I’d never spoken to anyone with a handlebar mustache before; maybe it had thrown me off my game. And at that gem of a thought, I realized I was doing myself absolutely no good. I needed sleep. And I needed to quit trying to figure out who killed Opal and just be satisfied I had enough evidence to take the spotlight off Barry.

  Though, did I really? I didn’t actually have any evidence. Just gossip and hearsay. Sergeant Wexler had a physical note from Barry refusing to give in to Opal’s blackmail. I needed something more. Much more.

  Watson’s whimper brought me out of a dream about chocolate bars with tiny handlebar mustaches waving pot leaves in the air. I glanced at the clock. Not even half past three. I glared down at him. “Really? I literally just fell asleep.”

  He whined and bounced his front paws.

  It took me a second; Watson never interrupted my sleep. Then I remembered where we were. With a groan, I threw back the covers and twisted out of bed. “First thing tomorrow, we’re finding a contractor to install the doggy door, and a dog run.” I scratched his head. “Come on. It’s not your fault.”

  Watson scampered ahead of me and took his place by the front door, still bouncing and whining pitifully.

  I started to open the door, then remembered it was mid-November in the middle of the mountains, and grabbed the coat off the hall tree as I shoved my feet into the snow boots I’d left by the entryway. Watson whined again as I tried to fasten the buttons. Giving up, I reached for the door handle. “Fine. Fine. We don’t all have fur coats on, you know.” I had barely cracked the door before Watson barreled through.

  I was surprised when I joined him outside. Despite the heavy snowfall, there was no wind, the sky was clear, the moon full, and stars illuminated the entire scene. Again I was swept up in the impression of living in a snow globe. I breathed in the crisp pine-scented air and felt myself relax. The move had been the right decision. I just needed to get through this part, h
elp Barry clear his name, and then as soon as the police were done with the store, I could begin setting up my bookshop and building my new life.

  Watson trotted over, seemingly content after finishing his business.

  “Go ahead and sniff around. I’m not ready to go in yet. But stay close.”

  He looked at the cabin, then back up at me.

  “Oh, good grief. How did I end up with such a finicky, grumpy little man?” I bent down to scratch his ears, but he scuttled away toward the door. Shaking my head, I followed, opened the door once more, and let him inside. I leaned against the wall, suddenly enjoying the view even more framed through the silhouette of the overhang and log columns of my front porch. It was paradise. Though Thanksgiving was still a week or so away, I had the sudden urge to get a Christmas tree. Soon, I could be sitting by the fire, reading a book, while the tree lights twinkled happily in front of the window where snow fell outside. I stuck my hands in my coat pockets and squeezed around me, relishing the notion.

  After a tickle on my hand, I withdrew something from my pocket and held it up to catch the moonlight. The feather. I’d forgotten. What a strange thing to have stuffed in my pocket.

  The feather! An entirely new option crashed over me, somehow combining with what I’d learned from Eddie earlier in the day. What if none of this had to do with edibles or Opal’s attempted blackmails, or her overall unlovable personality? What if it barely had anything to do with Opal herself? She’d been dating Sid.

  I twisted the feather again, considering. No doubt the police were taking care of the owl in the freezer, but what if it all centered around that? Weren’t owls an endangered species? I was fairly certain I’d heard something like that. Maybe only certain species of owls. Those big black eyes flashed in my memory. There had been a lot of death in Heads and Tails. Opal, Sid himself, countless animals.

  Wonderful. Just what I needed. Some other bunny trail.

  I stared at the feather a few more minutes, considering, then stuffed it back into my pocket and went inside. By the time I entered the bedroom, Watson was already asleep in his doggy bed beside my four-poster. “You’ve got it so good, you don’t even know.”