Death Over Easy

by Maddie Day

  “I want breakfast, all right, or a second breakfast, to put it more accurately. But I got me a bigger mess than the Deepwater Horizon oil spill to deal with right now. You are correct. There was a suspicious death discovered this morning.”

  Another murder. “Who was it, and where?”

  “An eyetalian lady. One Pia Bianchi,” which he pronounced PYE-uh bye-ANCH-chee.

  I sucked in a breath and brought my hand to my mouth. “Pia?” I whispered. Oh, no.

  “Yeah. You knowed her?”

  “I did. Not well. We were in a puzzle group together.”

  “When’s last time you seen her?”

  “Late yesterday afternoon at the music festival. She was playing with Abe O’Neill’s bluegrass group.”

  Buck nodded slowly as if recording my words. “Time?” He pulled out a small notebook and a chewed-on pen and jotted down what I’d said.

  “They stopped playing at five-thirty, five forty-five. We left and came home.”

  “Who’s ‘we’?”

  “My father and his wife. They’re visiting from Italy. I want you to meet them.” I gazed in the direction of the restaurant portion of the store and took a step until Buck cleared his throat.

  “Not right now, Robbie. I got a couple few more questions for you.”

  “But . . . why are you asking questions and not the state police detective?” Homicides in small Indiana towns were investigated by the state police, who worked with a Brown County crime task force. When the murder was local, town officers got involved and helped out with interviews and information gathering. Oscar Thompson had been the detective on the last murder in South Lick, and I hadn’t found him either approachable or all that competent.

  “Beanblossom’s unincorporated, so it’s county territory. Sheriff’s department’s handling the investigation, and they were kind enough”—Buck’s mouth took a turn toward the sardonic—“to ask us local yokel police to help out. So just lemme ask the questions, all right? You happen to know of anybody who had a beef with Ms. Bianchi, any kind of a set-to? Witness any brouhahas involving her?”

  Yikes. Had I ever. I swallowed. “Sue Berry—you know her, right?”

  At his nod I went on. “She was upset with Pia last night. Said she’d lent her a lot of money and Pia wasn’t paying it back. Sue’s running the festival logistics this year. She’ll be there all week.”

  “Duly noted.”

  “Then onstage Pia and Abe had a little argument. I’m sure it was nothing serious.” Abe would never ever murder someone. I knew that as well as I knew my own heart. “The mikes were live, though, and everybody there heard it.”

  “Nothing else?”

  “Well, Pia was a little prickly in our puzzle group. But not so much anybody would kill her for it.” The poor woman. Her life cut short. I’d found her hard to get to know, hard to deal with, but that didn’t mean I wanted her dead.

  “Every scrap of information is part of the puzzle,” Buck said. “You should oughta know that by now.”

  “Oh, and yesterday Beth Ferguson, one of my B&B guests, voiced a pretty extreme dislike for Pia. Not to me directly, but I overheard her and her boyfriend talking.”

  “She still here?” He jotted down the name.

  “I haven’t see her or Ed come down yet today, but they could have left by the upstairs exit.”

  “Boyfriend’s name?”

  “Ed Molina.”

  “Got it.” Buck put away his notebook and stuck the pen above his ear. “Much obliged, Robbie.”

  “Wait,” I said. “Was her body found in South Lick? Is that why you’re on the case?”

  He shook his head with a baleful air. “Fella by the name of Isaac Rowling found the body early this morning while out walking his dog. Did the right thing and called it in.”

  “Isaac?” Danna’s boyfriend.

  “I hear tell he’s been dating Danna.”

  “He has. Where did he find Pia?”

  Buck stared at me for a moment as if deciding whether to answer me or not. Finally he spoke. “Inside the Beanblossom covered bridge.”

  Chapter Five

  Buck had already known Danna and Isaac were seeing each other, and he had the grace to ask me if I could spare her for a tiny small minute, as he put it, so he could confirm Isaac’s story about where he’d been when the murder likely took place. I wondered if this meant the police knew of a connection between Pia and Isaac. I thought the person who reported the homicide was often automatically regarded as someone to investigate. The idea of finding a body in the covered bridge—the very bridge we’d driven through yesterday—made me feel sick. That and the stab of sadness at any violent death. Sadness tinged with fear if I was honest with myself, but I was too busy to dwell on any of those emotions. That would come later.

  While Buck sat at the farthest table and questioned Danna about Isaac, I asked Turner to take over at the grill. I could wait tables and still catch up with my father and Maria. I supposed she was technically my stepmother, but since I’d never lived with her, the term seemed an odd one to use.

  “Their order is ready,” Turner said, gesturing to the plates.

  “Thanks.” I loaded a tray with a plate of biscuits and gravy, two eggs sunny-side up with hash browns, a stack of banana-walnut pancakes, and a serving of fried mush, and carried it to their table. The Italians were going all-American today.

  “Did you hear some good tunes last night?” I asked after I distributed the plates where they belonged. I smiled at Maria and attempted some halting Italian for her benefit. “Ti piace la musica?”

  “Sì, mi è piaciuto molto.” She smiled back and nodded.

  “Bene,” I said. Good.

  “We saw Mr. Broward play,” Roberto said. “He is very good. I wanted to speak with Pia, but we only saw her far away and then she left.”

  Pia. Now the late Pia. Buck might want to speak with Roberto next. I glanced around the room. The diners at the few other occupied tables were all busy eating and talking, or in the case of two of my regulars, playing chess at the table where I’d painted a chessboard on the surface. I pulled up a chair and sat.

  “That man who came in?”

  “La polizia?”

  Right. Buck was in uniform. I barely even noticed anymore. “Yes. I’m afraid Pia died.”

  Maria’s brow knit. “Died? Morto?”

  I nodded. “Worse. I’m sorry to say she was killed. Murdered.” I wasn’t going to tell them she was found in the bridge. Let them keep a happy memory of yesterday, not a horrific one.

  Maria gasped and crossed herself. Roberto’s expression turned somber.

  “This is terrible. But this police, he thinks you are involved?” my father asked, peering into my face.

  “No. None of us here. But the young man who found her is Danna’s boyfriend, so Buck needed to ask her some questions. If you don’t mind, I’ll tell him you saw her at the festival last night. And that you realized you know her family. It might be important.”

  Roberto nodded, but stole a glance at Maria as if unsure she would agree.

  The cowbell on the door jangled and my friend Philostrate MacDonald pushed through it with his back. His arms held two trays of brownies. “Bet you thought I forgot, right Robbie?” he called to me.

  “I wasn’t worried,” I responded. Phil was my very reliable baker as well as my friend. “Set those down and come meet some people.”

  He shook my father’s hand as I introduced everybody. Phil smiled at Maria, too.

  “I’m really glad to meet you both,” he said. “You can’t believe how excited Robbie was to find you last fall, Mr. Fracasso.”

  “And I, her, right, cara mia?” Roberto said, patting his wife’s hand. She nodded with a smile for me.

  “Phil is Samuel’s grandson, and he also bakes my lunch desserts,” I told them. “Delicious brownies and more.”

  Phil’s dark skin glowed. “I had a super idea. I picked up some vanilla ice cream on the way over. I
’ll make brownie ice cream sandwiches for you to serve as a lunch special. What do you think?”

  Yum. “I love it,” I said. “You’re brilliant.”

  “Great. Lemme get the ice cream out of my car.” He surveyed the room. “Uh-oh. Why is Buck talking with Danna? She’s not in trouble, is she?”

  “No. But her boyfriend Isaac had the misfortune to find the body of a murder victim this morning. I’m sure Buck is only confirming his story.”

  A door slammed upstairs and footsteps heralded Chase appearing at the bottom of the staircase over on the other side of the store. I waved a hand, then focused on my friend again, whose back was to Chase.

  “I heard the end of a news flash concerning it on my way over, but I didn’t realize you were involved.” Phil whistled. “Another murder, Robbie,” he murmured.

  “I’m afraid so. At least I’m not involved . . . for a change.”

  “Who was the poor guy?” Phil asked.

  “It was a woman. Her name is, or was, Pia Bianchi. We saw her play at the music festival yesterday.”

  Phil’s startling blue eyes widened. “Pia? Our Pia?”

  I cocked my head. “What do you mean, our Pia?”

  “She’s a music student at IU. You know, in my department. She’s a really nice lady.” His eyes filled.

  “I didn’t know.” At least somebody had liked Pia. I shook my head. I checked for Chase, but he’d disappeared. He was probably browsing the cookware, as he’d said, to pick up something for his wife. “I wonder if Buck knows she was a student. I didn’t, but we’d only seen each other a couple times.”

  Phil blinked away a tear, swiping at the corners of his eyes. “It’s super sad she was killed,” he said, his usual exuberant spirits dimmed a notch. “I’d better take a number and get in line to tell Buck what I know. But first, ice cream.”

  “Turner can help you assemble the sandwiches,” I said. “They should freeze for a couple hours before the lunch crowd, right?”

  Phil nodded and pivoted toward the door.

  “What did he mean by another murder?” my father asked.

  I grimaced. I hadn’t filled Roberto in on that particular aspect of my life, not in e-mails, nor when I’d visited him in Italy over New Year’s. “We have had a bit of bad luck since last fall. Three different people were killed around here, two in South Lick. I found one of the bodies right here in my store, and once my friend and I happened across another one. I feel a little jinxed.”

  “What is jinxed?” Roberto asked.

  “It means prone to bad luck.”

  “Sfortuna,” Maria whispered.

  I dipped my head once. “Exactly.”

  Chapter Six

  Twenty minutes later Roberto sat across the table from Buck. Maria had gone back up to the room. Phil and Turner were busy cutting brownies and spreading softened ice cream on squares, and Danna was on the grill. Meanwhile I delivered a Kitchen Sink omelet with hash browns and fried mush to Chase Broward. He was the only diner in the place at the moment and sat at a small table near the door with his back to the rest of the restaurant. His guitar case rested on the floor next to him.

  “My parents said they enjoyed your playing last night.”

  “Glad to hear it.” He beamed his smooth smile at me. “I trust they got home safely.”

  “Yes, they did, thanks. Since it’s light until quite a bit after nine, they didn’t have a problem.”

  Chase took a sip of coffee. “I was reading the news online upstairs. There was a short piece saying a body was found in Beanblossom. The article said it was being treated as a suspicious death. I hope they don’t cancel the festival because of it.”

  “I hadn’t thought of that.” I’d been thinking of poor Pia, not about the festival. It seemed like a cold reaction from him. But I supposed if he hadn’t known Pia, and if he had a passion for bluegrass music . . . Still, for a glad-hander like him thinking of running for national office, showing a bit more empathy might have been in order.

  “Did you know Pia Bianchi?” I asked him. “She was onstage earlier yesterday.”

  He blinked and glanced past me toward the door. “No, never met her.”

  “Well, enjoy your breakfast. Are you playing tonight, too?”

  Chase nodded, mouth now full of eggs, gaze already on the urgent business of his phone.

  I moseyed over to the grill. My tall and ever-stylish assistant today wore a lilac bandanna over her red-gold dreadlocks, and a pink T-shirt under purple striped overalls. Pink high-tops finished the outfit. I’d told her early on that as long as her clothes were clean and her hair covered, I didn’t care what she wore. Me? I saved style for after hours, dressing for work nearly every day in jeans and a store T-shirt. Short sleeves in the warmer weather, long sleeves when it was cold. I pinned the curly black hair I’d gotten from Roberto back with a strong clip and usually didn’t even wear earrings to work.

  “Danna, how did it go with Buck?”

  She scrubbed the grill a little harder than she needed to. “He didn’t seem to believe me that I was with Isaac all night until I left at six to get here on time. I told him twenty times it was true, and that Isaac was heading out to jog with the dog. He goes early every day, before he leaves for work.”

  “Does he live close to Beanblossom?”

  “Yeah, maybe a mile from the bridge. It’s part of his route because the bridge road is so small there’s never any traffic.” She wrinkled her nose. “Buck said Isaac called about the body from some minister’s house. I have no idea why he didn’t have his phone with him. Buck seemed to think that was suspicious behavior.”

  “Did Isaac know Pia?”

  “I don’t know. Buck asked me the same question. I never heard Isaac talk of her, but that doesn’t mean he didn’t know her.”

  I looked over when I saw Buck stand and shake Roberto’s hand. “Maria went upstairs,” I called to him. My father nodded and headed in the same direction. Buck strolled toward Danna and me. Danna twisted her mouth like she’d tasted a spoiled sausage and scrubbed even harder. Buck beckoned me away from the stove.

  “Did you learn what you needed?” I asked him.

  “Maybe. You know I got to tell the sheriff your papa knew the deceased.”

  I stared at him. “Why? He didn’t kill Pia. He hadn’t even seen her in twenty years or more.”

  “And I’m sure the sheriff’s detective will decide he’s exactly what he seems, a foreign visitor with no role in the murder. Still and all, I got to tell her.” Buck lowered his voice. “Who’s the customer?”

  I also spoke softly. “His name is Chase Broward. He’s a B&B guest and a musician, but he’s also a city councillor in Bloomington. He said he’s thinking of running for Senate, though.”

  “Thought he looked familiar. So he was at the festival yesterday?”

  “He played last night. I asked him a few minutes ago if he knew Pia and he said he didn’t.”

  “Doing my job for me, Robbie?”

  I shook my head. “No, of course not. He said he’d read online that the body had been found.”

  “So the news is out. Great.” Buck’s voice belied his words. “I guess we can’t expect it to be a secret.”

  “But Phil knows Pia.” I gestured with my chin toward the dessert assembly line a few yards away. “Phil, can you talk to Buck while you’re wrapping desserts?”

  “Sure,” Phil replied.

  I looked at Danna. “Take your break while it’s quiet, okay?”

  “Thanks.” She slid off her apron and strode for the restroom.

  I realized I should have offered earlier. “Turner, take yours as soon as you’re done with the ice cream sandwiches.”

  “Yes, boss.” He gave me a brownie-coated thumbs-up, his color and equilibrium clearly restored.

  “Morning, Buck,” Phil said. “I’m in the same department at IU as Pia. Or I was, I suppose. It’s terrible news.”

  “Every homicide is,” Buck replied. “That said,
I’m here gathering facts from the locals, as the sheriff’s detective put it.” He wrinkled his nose. “Phil, when’s the last time you seen Ms. Bianchi?” He murdered the pronunciation again and I cringed.

  Phil glanced over at me, trying to keep a grin off his face. “Today’s Wednesday. So it must have been Monday in Bloomington. We both had a rehearsal for Aida. That lady could sing like nobody’s business.”

  “And for Italian operas, she already knew the language,” I said.

  “Exactly,” Phil agreed.

  “So Monday. What time would you say?” Buck chewed on the end of his pen.

  If Adele were here she’d warn him the end of that pen would come off one of these days and he’d have a mouthful of ink. And he’d probably ignore her.

  “Six p.m. or so, I’d say. Rehearsal went long.” Phil checked the clock, which read 11:00. “I’d better go. I have to be at work at noon.” He enclosed the last sandwich in plastic wrap and handed Turner the tray of neatly wrapped brown and white square desserts. “Into the Deepfreeze with these.”

  “Yes, sir,” Turner said.

  “Thank you, Phil,” I called as he passed Chase’s table.

  Phil turned, his hand rising to acknowledge my thanks. He looked at Chase’s face and froze. He shifted his gaze, staring at Buck and me, then walked briskly back toward us. “That guy,” he whispered.

  Buck frowned. “What about him?”

  Phil’s nostrils flared. “He was having an affair with Pia.”

  Chapter Seven

  After assuring Buck he wasn’t mistaken, Phil made his exit out the service door.

  To avoid Chase seeing him, I supposed. So Chase lied to me about knowing Pia. If he was married, and it was an illicit affair, that could easily be the reason for the untruth.

  It didn’t take long for Buck to approach Chase. I moseyed nearby and began to wipe down empty tables. The lunch rush would be upon us before long.

  “Excuse me, sir,” Buck said. “I’m Lieutenant Bird of the South Lick police.”

  “Chase Broward, sir.” He jumped to his feet and pumped Buck’s hand. “Thank you for your service, Lieutenant. I’m glad to make your acquaintance.”