Death Over Easy

by Maddie Day

  Buck extracted his hand. “You may have heard we had a suspicious death here in the county, Mr. Broward.”

  Chase adopted a sincere expression. “Yes, I did. It’s a sad day, may she rest in peace.” He clasped his hands in front of his waist. When he darted his gaze to me and back to Buck, his expression was more annoyed than sincere.

  “So you know it was a female.” Buck had an aw-shucks manner about him, with a relaxed, twangy speech to match, but if there was anything I’d learned in the last year it was that his hillbilly manner masked a truly sharp intellect and years of experience on the force. There were no flies on Buck Bird, as Adele would say—and had.

  “Did you happen to learn the name of the deceased?” Buck continued.

  Chase frowned and gazed at the corner of the room. “I can’t quite recall.”

  Well, that was horseradish. I’d told him Pia’s name myself. Could Chase truly have forgotten something from half an hour ago? I finished cleaning all the tables within earshot and hurried off to grab fresh paper place mats and the silverware we rolled in blue cloth napkins. When I came back, my guest had crossed his arms over his chest.

  “I dunno,” Buck said. “We got us a witness says you were stepping out with Ms. Bianchi, so to speak.”

  A flash of brilliance struck me. “Buck, I don’t want to intrude, but I snapped a photo of Pia onstage last night. Do you want to see?” I’d zoomed in and taken a couple yesterday as Abe’s group was playing. In one number Pia had played right next to my boyfriend, so she had to be in the shot, too. I hadn’t had time to crop or otherwise process the photographs.

  Buck barely restrained himself from rolling his eyes, but restrain he did. “Why, that might could be right useful, Robbie.”

  I dug my phone out of my back pocket and swiped through the pictures from last night until I found the best one of Pia. Abe was making an odd expression, so it definitely wasn’t the best of him.

  “Here.” I extended the phone to Buck, who indicated I should go ahead and show Chase.

  He bent his silver head and studied the photo, then straightened, handing the phone back to me. “I know the woman,” he said to Buck. “But she told me her name was Patricia. Patty White.” He smiled without much enthusiasm. “That’s why I said I didn’t know her.”

  Bianchi meant white in English. Either she had been disguising her identity—or he knew some Italian and was lying. Before my few experiences with murderers over the last year, I’d been a lot more willing to give people the benefit of the doubt and trust their word. Of course, all kinds of people lie for all kinds of reasons. It comes with the territory when a man or a woman has taken another’s life and is desperate to avoid being accused of the deadly crime.

  I pocketed my phone and resumed setting up tables. I eavesdropped through the next few more minutes of Buck talking with Chase. The main things said were yes, Chase had known Pia, and no, he hadn’t killed her.

  “You’re a married man, ain’t you, Mr. Broward?” Buck asked. “Didja maybe know Ms. Bianchi in the Biblical sense?”

  Chase’s nostrils flared ever so slightly. “I can’t see what business it is of yours, Lieutenant.”

  “When we’re investigating a murder, everything is our business.”

  “I made the mistake of getting carried away with Ms. White one night. That’s all it was.” He lifted his chin.

  By now I wasn’t even pretending not to listen.

  Buck scribbled in his notebook. Without looking up, he asked, “How long were you in Beanblossom yesterday, and when did you arrive back here?”

  Chase cleared his throat. “I was onstage at the festival until ten o’clock and then drove back. Alone.”

  I made a mental note to ask Roberto if he’d heard Chase come in and if he’d noted the time.

  Buck jotted down Chase’s cell number and address and thanked him. “We’d appreciate you not leaving town until further notice.”

  Chase raised his eyebrows. “Lieutenant, I’d planned to be here through Sunday. But I live a scant thirty miles to the west. Surely you can find me if you need me.”

  “All right. But don’t be traveling outside the state, or heck, even north of Martinsville. Do I have your word?”

  “Very well.”

  Buck nodded.

  Chase in turn thanked me, although I expected he was probably cursing me silently at the same time. “I won’t be back until late tonight,” he told me. “Jam sessions all afternoon.”

  “Enjoy.” I watched him carry out the guitar case, letting the screen door slam behind him.

  “Whooee,” Buck said, scratching his head so his thin hair stuck up like the fur on a spooked cat. “I’m so hungry my belly thinks my throat’s been cut.”

  I winced. “Buck!”

  “Guess that’s not a particularly appropriate thing to say today, is it? Anyhoo, I been up since before the rooster put his pants on. Any chance of an early lunch?”

  “Of course. The usual?”

  He was already pulling out a chair at a small table. “Whatever you got. But tell me one thing. Did you hear this Broward character come in last night or go out sometime before dawn?”

  I shook my head. “I’m afraid I didn’t hear a thing. My guests get a key to their separate entrance. It and their parking area are on the other side of the building from my apartment. Plus I wear earplugs when I sleep. Sorry.”

  “Maybe your other guests heard him.” He sat and extracted his phone from his shirt pocket.

  To relay the new information to headquarters, I imagined.

  “Hey, Robbie?” Danna called.

  I made my way to the cooking area where Turner had finished cleaning up after the ice cream and brownie effort. He sat at a table making his way through a big plate of brunch.

  “Can you order in some soba noodles if you can get them, or vermicelli if you can’t?” he asked. “In Bloomington last week, I had an Asian noodle salad to die for. I re-created it at home, and I think our customers will love it.”

  “Got it.” I thumbed a quick reminder to myself on my phone. I threw two meat patties on the clean grill for Buck, popped open halves of a bun in the toaster, and scooped out potato salad into a small bowl. “That was quite a morning,” I said to Danna. “Have you talked with Isaac yet?”

  “He’s supposed to be working at the state park, but I put in a call to him, anyway,” she answered, pulling open the heavy walk-in cooler door. “He hasn’t called back. I hope he’s not getting grilled by that weird detective dude.” She disappeared inside.

  She must mean Oscar Thompson, the detective on the most recent murder. No, Buck had referred to the detective as a female. I flipped his meat patties, the smell of which were making me super hungry. I topped both with cheddar cheese and had set up a plate with the requisite pickle spear, lettuce, and tomato when my cell rang. I glanced at Turner and pointed to the burgers, but the young man was already on his feet and heading to the stove to finish Buck’s order.

  I walked to the open front door to answer the call, slipping out the screen door as I heard Abe’s sexy baritone on the line.

  “Robbie, I heard the news about Pia.” He sounded worried.

  “I did, too. It’s been, shall we say, an interesting morning around here. You’re at work, right?”

  “Yes, but I’m ready to take my lunch break. I thought I’d drop by for a burger, but what I really want is to talk with you.”

  “I know. Me, too. Let me see what Roberto and Maria are up to for the rest of the day. I’ll know by the time you get here.”

  “That’s unlikely.” The worry switched to laughter as he pulled his truck into one of the diagonal spaces right in front of me. He waved through the open window.

  A smile split my face. I loved this guy. Before he could even open his door, though, another call came in. I disconnected his and answered Sue Berry’s call.

  “Robbie, I need your help.” Her voice was low, urgent.

  “What’s happened, Sue? Are you
okay? The family, the baby?” Her first granddaughter had been born only six months ago.

  “They’re all fine. It’s me.”

  “What’s the matter? Where are you?”

  “At the Nashville sheriff’s station.” Her voice rose to a near screech. “They think I killed Pia!”

  Chapter Eight

  I sat in a rocker on the porch and managed to talk Sue down off the cliff. She was too frazzled to give me many details, and it turned out she hadn’t been arrested for the crime, merely asked to come to the station to be questioned.

  “But I can’t get hold of my husband, Robbie. I need Glen to call our lawyer.” Her tone was still frantic, but slightly less panicked.

  “I’ll do my best to find him.” Glen Berry was the owner of a successful small liquor store chain in the area. “You just sit tight, okay? I’ll get through to him.”

  “But what about the festival? What if it falls apart because I’m not there?” she wailed.

  “Sue, it’s going to be fine. You’ve set everything up to run smoothly, and I’m positive it will.” I had no idea if that was true, but what else could I say? “I’ll check in with you later.”

  “Thank you, Robbie. You’re the good friend I need right now.” She said good-bye and disconnected.

  I stared at my phone. Sue must have accosted Pia in public about the debt again last night and someone reported it. But the detective would need evidence to actually arrest her.

  “Earth to Robbie,” Abe said from the top step, waving one of the purple-checked handkerchiefs he always carried.

  I looked up into his concerned face. “I’m sorry. Sue is at the county sheriff’s station in Nashville. They’re asking her questions about Pia, and she can’t find her husband. Glen apparently is the only one who knows who their lawyer is.”

  Abe sank into the rocker next to me and laid his hand on my knee. “She’s not the only one they want to talk to. I got a call, too. Apparently my amplified argument with Pia didn’t go unnoticed.” He wore the rural electric company summer uniform of a green polo shirt with their logo on the pocket and darker green work pants.

  “Ouch.”

  “It won’t be a problem. I didn’t see her again after our last number. I left, picked up Sean at math club, and spent the evening with him.”

  “How’s he doing?” I asked.

  “Good. Thirteen going on twenty, of course. Looking forward to spending most of the summer with my folks, mostly because Dad will probably teach him to drive on the back roads.” Abe shook his head, his dimple deepening. “I keep telling my boy that thirteen is not sixteen, but he doesn’t seem to get the message.”

  My mind couldn’t seem to leave Pia’s murder. “Did he stay overnight?” I asked. Abe was going to need an airtight alibi.

  “No. He’d forgotten to bring a school library book that was due today, so I took him back to his mom’s.” Abe gazed at me. “I didn’t go find Pia and kill her on my way home. Don’t worry.”

  “Of course you didn’t. But you’re going to have to convince the detective of that.” I gazed across the street at the woods in full leaf and varying shades of green. Someone had mowed a lawn nearby, and a small plane droned overhead. On such a sunny day, the warm air made me want to drop everything and ride my bike to a lake for the rest of the day. Too bad that wasn’t going to happen.

  “Why would I murder someone because she wanted to mess up our festival gig?”

  I raised a shoulder and let it drop, focusing on Abe again. “Pia wasn’t a regular member of your bluegrass group, was she? I don’t remember seeing her the last time you guys played.”

  “No. Bud wanted to bring her in for a trial. She’d only rehearsed with us twice. She had a great voice and was a decent banjo player, but I think she thought she would become the star. It was a little early for that.”

  “Phil said she’s a fellow music student with him at IU. That she sang opera, too.”

  Abe let out a breath. “Not anymore, sadly.”

  My stomach growled.

  Abe laughed the deep rolling laugh I adored. “Sounds like we’re both hungry.” He stood and held out a hand. “Can I take you to lunch?”

  I let him help me up. “Only if you let me cook it.”

  Buck pushed out through the doorway at the same time two carloads of diners pulled up. “Morning, O’Neill.” He bit into the ice cream sandwich in his hand.

  Abe returned the greeting.

  Buck swallowed and went on. “You’re on my list of folks to track down, but I got me a call from headquarters. Been called to a meeting, some kind of powwow. Be seeing you down there later, I expect.” He tipped his hat. “Great lunch, Robbie. Simple and filling, exactly how I like it.”

  “See you, Buck.” I frowned as he went. Abe not having an alibi worried me. A lot.

  Chapter Nine

  I ran my tail off for the next hour and a half. The two carloads of hungry music festival folks had swarmed in and were only the beginning of a major lunch rush. Thank goodness for Danna and Turner, and I was glad I’d gotten in a quick chat with Abe while I could. He’d eaten a quick grilled ham and cheese sandwich and had taken a brownie ice cream sandwich to go, promising to call me later.

  One customer I hadn’t seen in a while was Paula Berry, Sue and Glen’s daughter. She’d come in a little bit ago with another woman around her age, each pushing a stroller. I grimaced inwardly. Did she know of her mother’s predicament? I took over the sodas they’d ordered from Danna and resolved not to bring up Sue’s current location unless Paula did.

  I greeted her and asked, “How’s that baby?” I peered in to see the fat-cheeked little girl sucking her toe and burbling in baby dialect.

  “Susannah is doing so well. She’s six months old tomorrow.”

  “She looks healthy and happy. What else could you want?” Besides a father to help raise her, but that was a different issue. What was done was done.

  “She really is.” Paula introduced me to her friend, who had a baby boy the same size as little Susannah. He looked like he was ready to go to sleep.

  “Nice to meet you,” I said. “Paula, I saw your mom at the music festival last night. Sue’s doing a great job managing it.”

  “I know. She absolutely loves it. Heck, she’s managed our family all these years. She’s simply taking it to another level.” She wrinkled her nose. “Too bad my father doesn’t think so.”

  “Oh?” I asked.

  “Dad is such a dinosaur. He doesn’t want her to have a job. It’s so stupid. I mean, I love her having lots of time to babysit. But there’s more to life than only taking care of other people, well, unless it’s your job.” She shook her head. “Mom likes running things and she’s good at it. He shouldn’t get so upset that she’s out doing something she loves.”

  Her friend nodded in agreement.

  “He’s probably used to the status quo,” I said. “Don’t you think he’ll come around?”

  “Maybe. I don’t know. They’ve been squabbling a lot more lately. Just kind of picking at each other.”

  “Every relationship goes through its rough spots.” I heard the ding of the food-ready bell. “Let me go get your orders.”

  “One second. Robbie,” Paula beckoned me closer. “Did you hear a woman was killed?” she whispered.

  I nodded. “It’s a sad day in the county.”

  Paula shuddered. “All I can picture is Erica.” Her eyes filled. It had been Paula’s sister Erica’s body I’d found in my store last November.

  Her friend reached over and rubbed Paula’s shoulder, even while keeping her baby’s stroller gently moving back and forth with her foot.

  Paula smiled wanly and took a sip of her soda. “I’m okay.”

  I patted her other shoulder. At least she didn’t seem to know about her mom being questioned. She would later, but she might as well enjoy her lunch while she could.

  At twelve-forty, Roberto and Maria came downstairs, she with a purse hanging from the crook o
f her elbow, both carrying light jackets. I hurried over to greet them.

  “We’re going to visit Bloomington for the rest of the day. You’re busy and”—Roberto’s arm tightened around his wife’s shoulders—“Maria, she is a little upset by all the talk of murder.”

  Maria nodded slowly. “I sorry, Roberta,” she murmured.

  Now that I took a good look at her, she did look a bit pale, with new lines around her eyes.

  “That’s fine,” I said. “Go. There’s so much to see and do in Bloomington.”

  “Yes,” agreed Roberto. “And I want to show her where I studied all those years ago.”

  All those years ago when he and my mom fell in love. When they conceived me. When he had the quarry accident that ended his graduate fellowship. He’d returned to Italy before Mom knew she was pregnant. For reasons I never knew, she didn’t tell him, didn’t write him a letter, didn’t search him out. She left her sister Adele and moved to Santa Barbara. I hadn’t missed having a father, really, because she and I were so happy as a mother-daughter unit—until she died suddenly, way too young, a year and a half ago. I was already working as a chef here in southern Indiana, so I let Adele comfort me, and ended up buying and renovating my country store. But it wasn’t until last fall that I solved the puzzle of who my father had been.

  “Enjoy yourselves.” I meant it. They didn’t need to stay here among the craziness that was a too-full restaurant and a murder investigation, to boot. I embraced Maria and came away with the lovely scent of her perfume in my nose.

  “We’ll stay out for dinner, too,” he added.

  “Sounds good.” I gave him a hug, too. Off they went, and back I went to busing tables, making change, taking orders, and generally filling in wherever Danna and Turner needed me.

  During a temporary lull, when everyone was served and no tables needed clearing and setting up, I should have finally grabbed a bite to eat. Instead, I dashed to my desk in the corner and looked up the numbers for all five of Glen Berry’s liquor stores. I should have gotten his cell number from Sue. Too late for that now. I didn’t reach him until my fourth call.