Death Over Easy

by Maddie Day

  I tilted my head. Her local accent had all but disappeared. On purpose, or had she been putting it on before?

  “Anyway, I would like to eat,” she said. “But we have a couple few more questions for you, Robbie. The boss asked me to come on out and set with you a piece.”

  Or maybe her accent wasn’t gone, after all. I’d never heard couple few used anywhere but in southern Indiana. Same with might could and should oughta, along with set with you a piece.

  Wanda went on. “Hoped the place would be nice and quiet like it is. Can you spare a minute?”

  Not really. But I didn’t voice the thought. I finished laying bacon on the griddle and caught Danna’s gaze. “I’ll only be a minute.”

  Danna nodded and took over at the stove.

  I beckoned to Wanda and headed toward my desk area in the corner. “What’s up?”

  “Anne, that is, Detective Henderson said you texted her last night you learned something. I’m here to find out what it was.”

  “I wanted to tell her a couple things I found out last night. I was over in Beanblossom listening to music.” I half perched on my desk. “Sit down if you want.”

  “It’s okay.” She brushed away my offer. “I was at the music park, too. Heared some pretty great pickin’ and a couple talented fiddlers. Didn’t see y’all.”

  “I’m not surprised. You know how many people were there. Anyway, you know Phil MacDonald, right?”

  “Of course.”

  “And I’m sure you must know he and Pia were both students in the IU music department. He still is, of course.” At Wanda’s nod I went on. “He told me he saw Pia and Chase Broward together a few times. Getting, well, extra-friendly in a car. I’m sure he’ll be happy to tell you where and when.”

  Her pale, almost unnoticeable blond eyebrows went up nearly to her hairline. “I’ll contact him about what he saw. For now, give me the bullet points. So to speak.” She pulled a small notebook and pen out of a pocket on her belt.

  I let her know the three places Phil had mentioned seeing the couple. “I told Detective Henderson yesterday what Glen Berry said about Pia. Well, it turns out Abe spied them in a car together in Gnaw Bone. And they weren’t being all lovey-dovey like her and Chase. On the contrary, Abe thought they were arguing.”

  “Duly noted.” She scribbled. “Anything else?”

  I checked that Danna was occupied at the griddle and turned my back on her, lowering my voice. “Has the investigation already looked into Isaac Rowling’s past?”

  Wanda narrowed her eyes. “Somebody’s on that. Not sure what he dug up.”

  “Danna said he has a dark side. Last night he said Pia had bought a metal sculpture from him but hadn’t given him the full amount she owed for it. When Danna asked if he’d tried to make Pia pay, his face went strange, expressionless. I don’t know if it means anything, but it’s a point of information.”

  “Thanks. We have noted he’s a veteran. The smallest little thing can trigger PTSD, you know. Anything else?”

  “Not at the moment. No, wait. Sue Berry and Chase Broward seemed to be arguing about something last night. I didn’t hear the words. It was just their body language from a distance.” I felt like there was something else I was missing, but I couldn’t place what. Was that all I’d learned? No. I could tell her what I’d seen in the Emerald room, even though I’d already sent the pictures to Henderson. I didn’t know how closely they communicated or if the detective had even seen my text. She hadn’t acknowledged it. “I have one more thing.”

  Wanda’s stomach complained audibly of hunger. “Hope it’s quick. I’m so hungry I’m fartin’ cobwebs.”

  I snorted. Wanda was plenty of things, but dainty wasn’t among them. “I was freshening the rooms yesterday after Detective Henderson left.” I mentally crossed my fingers at the lie. “In Chase Broward’s room I saw a banjo string wrapper. And he plays the guitar. I don’t know if it’s important or not, but it could be. I took some pictures and texted them to the detective.”

  “Got it. Why would he go and have a thing like that?”

  “Abe told me you can use banjo strings on the guitar, but most musicians would only do that as a last resort.”

  “I hear ya.” She jotted something down, then stashed her pen and notebook. “Now for some grub. I’ll take both of them there specials and a plate of biscuits and gravy with a side of bacon, if you don’t mind.”

  “Why would I mind?” Her appetite was almost as legendary as Buck’s, but the cousins were like Jack Sprat and his wife, not that skinny Buck avoided fat—on the contrary. It just never turned to fat on his body, unlike what happened to the rest of the known universe, including Wanda and me.

  Wanda laughed. “Gotta keep up my girlish figure, you know.” She patted her hefty hips with a grin.

  She was a woman happy with her self-image, despite not being anywhere near the body America’s advertising giants would have us all believe was ideal. Mine wasn’t either, with my curvy hips, although on top I wasn’t particularly busty, unlike Wanda. I was content with my shape, too.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Roberto and Maria came downstairs while Wanda was eagerly attacking her triple breakfast. A few more customers had dropped in, but we were still pretty quiet. I greeted my father and his wife with kisses on both cheeks.

  “How was Bloomington, Babbo? Did you visit all your old haunts?” I asked, smiling.

  “We did. I showed Maria everything, è giusto, cara?”

  Maria agreed in Italian, but she shot me a quick eye roll. I was getting to really like this woman.

  “We eat at Nick’s,” she said.

  “You ate at Nick’s English Hut?” A hangout favored by students, professors, and townies alike and only a block from the main entrance into campus, it offered great beer, above-average pub fare, and a true Bloomington ambiance.

  Roberto beamed. “But of course. The town, she has changed much, no?”

  “It must have, in twenty-seven years.” It had to have changed considerably. After his quarry accident, Roberto’s last days in the state had been spent in University Hospital, unfortunately. I hoped he hadn’t included the big health-care facility on his tour. “Sit down and let me bring you breakfast. We can go over today’s plans while it’s quiet. Remember, I’m taking you out to Hoosier Hollow for dinner. It’s right here in South Lick, and we can even walk there. My friend Christina is the head chef.” Every dish at the upscale restaurant was delicious and prepared with caring expertise.

  “Abe comes too?” Maria asked.

  “Of course.” I handed them each a menu. “The specials today honor the music festival. The word bluegrass means a certain kind of grass, but now it’s also a style of music. Both originated in Kentucky, the state to our south.”

  “The bluegrass state,” Roberto said. “I knew this.” He followed with an explanation for Maria, who was looking a bit lost.

  “Anyway, fried apples are a specialty of Kentucky, and country ham is big there, too, so we’re offering both as specials today.” I pointed to the Specials board. “I’ll get your coffee.”

  I was waylaid by two sets of diners, one wanting coffee refills and another customer sending back her omelet, claiming the eggs weren’t done. I whispered to Danna, “Cook the life out of it this time.”

  She raised one eyebrow and slapped the omelet back on the griddle. “Nice and dry, coming right up.”

  Wanda had pulled up a chair at my father’s table by the time I got back. I wasn’t sure I liked the look of this. The new deputy sheriff had her trusty notebook and pencil out again. A frown pulled on my father’s face.

  “Did you contact Pia Bianchi before you arrived in Indiana?” Wanda asked him.

  “No,” Roberto answered. “I haven’t seen her in many years, I told you.”

  “What about you, ma’am?” Wanda spoke loud and slow.

  Seriously? Maria wasn’t deaf. She just couldn’t speak English very well.

  “No, I don’t
,” Maria said, her luminous brown eyes wide.

  “You don’t what?” Wanda scrunched up her nose.

  “I don’t talk to her.”

  “Did you visit her here in Brown County?” Wanda pressed my stepmother.

  “No. I say no!”

  “Hang on a sec, Wanda,” I demanded. “What’s going on here?”

  “We have intel that your visitors have known Pia Bianchi her whole life. Only makes sense they paid her a visit once they entered the country.”

  Intel. As if. “Can I have a word with you, please?” I beckoned to Wanda. This was going too far.

  Wanda reluctantly stood. “Excuse me, folks.” She followed me back to the country store side of the space, where it was quiet and no curious ears would hear.

  “What the heck are you doing, grilling my guests when they’re ready to eat breakfast?” I folded my arms. “What’s this so-called intel you mentioned?”

  “When Buck interviewed your father, he learned he and his wife knew the victim. My boss wanted me to follow up.” She lifted her chin.

  “I told Buck to talk to Roberto. But it was because they’d seen Pia from a distance the night before she was killed. I thought whatever they saw might be important. Not because I thought he killed Pia!”

  “I’m only doing my job, Robbie.”

  “And I’m only doing mine. I’ll thank you to not upset my visiting parents. Let them have their breakfast in peace. Make an appointment and come back if you want, but leave them alone for now. Agreed?”

  Wanda tapped her leg with her hand and inspected the far wall from where she stood. Avoiding my gaze, no doubt. Finally she nodded. “Have it your way. But next time we might need him to come down to the station for his interview. Just saying.” She stumped back to her table, threw a few bills on it to punctuate her threat, and left, tugging her Smokey Bear hat firmly onto her head as she went.

  I checked in with Roberto and Maria. “I hope Wanda didn’t upset you.” I gazed from one to the other. “She shouldn’t have questioned you here, while you were eating.”

  My father stroked his wife’s hand. “She had a small bad experience with polizia some years ago. She doesn’t like them.”

  Maria nodded.

  “I’m really sorry,” I said, then mustered a smile. “What would you like to eat this morning?”

  Chapter Nineteen

  The bell on the door didn’t stop jangling for the next half hour. Every table was full, and three parties milled among the cookware shelves waiting for seats to free up. I didn’t have a second to muse over Wanda’s questioning, but a little nag at the back of my brain remembered Maria’s reaction and what Roberto had said of her past.

  Adele followed a group of six diners into the store. With my arms full of empty dishes, it was all I could do to give a little raised-chin smile. Roberto spied Adele and pointed to the empty chair at their table. He’d met her when we’d all had dinner together on Monday. I’d been pretty sure the Italians would like Adele and Samuel, and vice versa, and I wasn’t disappointed.

  Turner hurried in next, a harried look on his face. “Sorry I’m late, Robbie. There was a tie-up on a small road near my house and they detoured us all the way around by the state park. It took forever.” His scent this morning was of fresh air and soap.

  I glanced at the wall clock. “It’s only eight-fifteen. Don’t worry. You’re not very late. But I’m glad to see you.” It worked well for Danna to come in at six-thirty, and then to have Turner’s help once things got busy. “Check with Danna and see if she wants a break at the grill, okay?” I deposited my armful of dishes at the sink and headed over to say hello to Adele.

  “Good morning, Roberta.” My aunt beamed. “Sure as heck smells good in here.”

  I sniffed. It absolutely did. The sweetness of apples and syrup mingled in the air with the savory of sausages and bacon and the richness of dark-roast coffee brewing. The irresistible aroma made my stomach growl right then and there.

  Roberto laughed out loud. “When the stomach says such a thing, you need to eat, my daughter.”

  I had grabbed a biscuit to go with my sausage before we opened, but apparently it wasn’t enough. “I’ll eat when things slow down in an hour or two.” If they slowed down.

  “We was talking about their schedule today,” Adele said.

  “She invited us to her farm for lunch,” Roberto added. “To see the sheeps.”

  “Good,” I said. “Perfect. And it’s such a pretty drive out there.” I peered out the window to see sun reflecting off a parked car’s windshield. “Looks like a nice day for it, too.”

  “I’ll show ’em the beasts and my garden and all. And get to know each other better.” Adele patted Maria’s hand. She pointed to herself, then to my stepmother. “Friends, you and me.”

  Maria smiled and nodded. “Friends.”

  “Now, can I get me one of them Kentucky omelets, a dish of the apples, and a side of biscuits and gravy?” Adele asked. “I’m a hungry old lady this morning.”

  I laughed. “Coming right up.” I jotted down her order and delivered it to a newly aproned Turner, who had taken over cooking for Danna.

  I busied myself asking folks if I could get them anything else, handing out checks, taking money, while Danna cleared and cleaned tables. I told the folks who had been waiting the longest they could be seated. Chase Broward trotted down from upstairs.

  “I’m sorry, we’re pretty busy right now,” I told him. “You’ll have to wait ten, maybe twenty minutes for a table to open up.” I’d told him and my other B&B guests this kind of situation might arise, that breakfast was first come, first served.

  He frowned, crossing his arms on his chest.

  “I can get you coffee while you wait, though.”

  At that, his expression lightened. “Thank you. Coffee will help.”

  When I returned with his mug of java, though, he wasn’t where I’d left him. I scanned the room. Aha. I grabbed the coffeepot and carried it and his mug to Roberto and Maria’s table where Chase had taken the fourth seat.

  After I handed him his coffee and poured Adele’s, I said, “This is my aunt, Adele Jordan.”

  “Hush, now, Robbie,” Adele said. “I’ve knowed Broward here for a coon’s age.”

  “Yes, indeed,” Chase said, but he didn’t look as slick, as well put-together this morning as he had in previous days. His hand shook enough to make little waves of coffee when he picked up the mug, and he didn’t meet Adele’s gaze.

  Was he nervous for some reason? Hungover? Or maybe he hadn’t slept well.

  “Do you play again today?” Roberto asked him.

  “Yes, later this afternoon. I have a business meeting this morning.”

  “Are you ready to order?” I asked Chase. “Or should I give you a minute?”

  He checked the Specials board, then glanced down at the paper menu, which doubled as place mat. “I’ll have the granola and yogurt, please, with a dish of fresh fruit.

  I always provided a healthy option, and judging from Chase’s trim build, he must opt for it regularly, whether here or at home.

  “How’s your lovely wife, Chase?” Adele asked as I prepared to leave the group. She set her elbow on her table and rested her chin on her fist. “She hasn’t been back to wood-carving club in a month of Sundays.”

  “No.” Chase cleared his throat, his mouth looking like he had tasted spoiled milk. “She still keeps her tools sharp, plays around with different projects.”

  “Hmm.” Adele still gazed at him intently. “You go ahead and tell her I said howdy, all right? She’s got spunk, your wife does.”

  “What’s wood-carving club?” I asked my aunt.

  “Some of us ladies took a class together a long time ago, got along super,” Adele replied. “We decided to start a club so’s we could still visit. The plan was for us all to set around and carve stuff, but mostly we snack and gossip. That’s the best part.”

  “Sounds fun.” I headed back to the st
ove, glad he hadn’t mentioned the missing card in his room doorway. I also mused on a philanderer’s wife owning small very sharp tools, and what else Adele might know about Chase, his wife, and his life.

  Chapter Twenty

  By a few minutes past eleven the morning rush was over and we were in our usual mid-morning lull. Before she’d left, Adele had moseyed over to me and murmured, “Was it only me, or was Broward more nervous than a long-tailed cat in a room full of rocking chairs?”

  “I don’t know, Adele. Maybe he didn’t get enough sleep,” I’d replied.

  “Huh. Could be.”

  Now Danna sat rolling more silverware in the blue cloth napkins we used, and Turner was flipping a few pancakes for his break meal. Feeding my employees was one of their benefits, and the least I could do, really, after running them ragged all morning. I’d finished an omelet—Danna had been right, the contents of the Bluegrass made a great combination—and was munching on a slightly over-crisp piece of bacon when the bell on the door jangled.

  Glen Berry ambled in, followed by three other businessmen in town.

  “Hey, Robbie,” Glen called, lifting a hand in greeting. His light blue button-down was neatly pressed, with the sleeves rolled up onto his forearms.

  I swallowed down the last of the bacon and stood to meet them. “You all here for breakfast, lunch, or both?” Technically I didn’t offer lunch until 11:30, but we were almost there. I wasn’t going to nitpick it.

  “You know Don O’Neill, I think,” Glen said.

  I nodded and smiled at Abe’s older brother, who owned the local hardware store. Don always carried a hint of worry in his face, but I knew he had a good heart.

  Glen introduced the other two men. “We wondered if we could reserve a table for every Thursday at, say, eleven-thirty? We’re all in business for ourselves and decided it would be good to meet regularly.”

  Wasn’t businesspeople meeting up what the Chamber of Commerce was for? Whatever. I was happy to feed them and take their money. “Of course you can, and I thank you for choosing Pans ’N Pancakes for your meeting. Eleven-thirty is a good idea, too, before we get real busy.”