Death Over Easy

by Maddie Day

  Danna was Isaac’s alibi for Pia’s death—or was she? Maybe he’d lied that the body had been cold when he found Pia. Maybe he’d met her by arrangement in the bridge, leaving before Danna left for work. He could have waited to use the parson’s phone until more time had passed. But if so, killing Pia wasn’t a spur-of-the-moment, PTSD flare-up kind of crime. Why would Isaac even have a banjo string on him? I wondered if Danna had stayed at Isaac’s last night, too, or if he was without an alibi for Sue’s murder, too. Isaac’s father had been in prison. Had his criminal behavior rubbed off on his son? I scribed PRISON going down off WEAPON.

  Maybe Sue’s killer was none of the people involved in Pia’s death. Buck had mentioned a copycat murder. While I chewed over that, I used the first C in ACCIDENT to add COPYCAT to the puzzle. Anybody could get their hands on a banjo string. Sue might have had a long-standing issue with someone over any number of life’s problems. Why do people kill? For love, for money, for revenge. And she was such a little woman, almost anybody could have physically killed her. I shivered, picturing the actual act of choking a fellow human being to death. Wouldn’t they struggle? Wouldn’t it be unbearably awful? What life situation was so terrible someone would take such a final, fatal step?

  Buck had said a couple out for a stroll had found Sue’s body by the side of Scarce O’ Fat Ridge Road. Surely whoever took her there would have left some kind of evidence in his or her car. A hair, a smear of blood, evidence of a struggle, something the police could use. I frowned and tapped my pencil against the puzzle. How would anyone but Glen have convinced Sue to get in a car early in the morning? Glen had an early morning habit of leaving the house. I supposed somebody could have broken into the Berry home and forced Sue out. Or killed her there and then dumped the body? But why, especially if they weren’t also Pia’s killer?

  And then there was Beth. She had a strong motive for murdering Pia. She had argued with Sue. Her long solo run provided means, opportunity. I used the E in MURDER to add Beth, and hung RUN off the first R. Beth had been incensed at Henderson’s implication she might have killed Pia. But did she protest so much because she was guilty or innocent? I used the G in GLEN to add GUILTY at the top of the puzzle and the N of PRISON to write INNOCENT at the bottom, which gave a pleasing symmetry to the grid. MEANS also fit nicely crossing the third N of INNOCENT. I stared at the puzzle and then wrote GARROTED off the R in BANJO STRING. And because I could, I added SEVENTH using the N of RUN and the H of BETH, because today was June seventh.

  I sat back again. I wasn’t sure if this puzzle exercise was helping, after all. Nothing seemed particularly clear, and now my stomach was queasy from imagining the two killings. My only hope was that the sheriff’s detective was having better luck with the facts. When my phone buzzed in my back pocket in the middle of my puzzling, I jumped, then extracted it and answered Abe’s call.

  “Sweetie, I heard about Sue’s death,” he began. “It’s terrible news.”

  “I know. Buck and Wanda came into the restaurant to tell Glen.”

  “How did he take it?”

  “He seemed very much like a man stricken with grief,” I said.

  Abe didn’t speak for a few seconds. “What do you mean, seemed very much like?” he finally queried.

  “I mean, it’s possible he was acting sorrowful. You know the police often suspect the spouse first.”

  “Ugh. Really?”

  “Yes. I’m not totally sure why he would kill his own wife or if it had anything to do with Pia’s death.”

  “Wow,” Abe said. “A lot to take in. If Glen is innocent, he’s going to be a wreck. Losing Sue less than a year after losing his own daughter? And both from murder? It doesn’t give you a good feeling about the world, does it?”

  “No.” I finished the last sip of beer. “So let’s ignore the whole thing and head out for a nice meal, shall we?”

  “That’s the other reason I called. I’m sorry, Robbie, I can’t make it after all. Sean’s mom’s father, my former father-in-law, was taken ill and she had to get down to Evansville. I’m on dad duty.”

  What a disappointment. I’d been looking forward to having him at my side during dinner at the place where we’d had our first date. “Want to bring Sean, too?”

  “That won’t work, either. He has a final exam tomorrow to study for, and I agreed to help quiz him. We’ll be eating Dad’s famous chili and hot dogs instead of gourmet cuisine, I’m afraid.”

  “Okay. Thanks for letting me know. We’ll miss you. I’ll miss you.”

  “I know, and I’m sorry. It’s just one of those things. When are the Italians taking off?”

  “Tomorrow afternoon. It’s been a short visit, but a nice one. Too bad murder had to mess things up.”

  “Please tell them I said good-bye, then. And I’ll take a rain check on dinner.”

  We said our farewells and disconnected. I wouldn’t have my favorite guy next to me tonight. Too bad. Glen would never have Sue by his side again, ever. Whether he preferred it that way or not remained to be seen.

  Chapter Twenty-six

  Roberto savored a bite of his batter-fried catfish. “Mmm, exactly like I remembered it. Your friend, the chef, she is very talented.” He smiled.

  “She is,” I agreed. We’d been at Hoosier Hollow restaurant for forty-five minutes. Christina had sent out a complimentary appetizer sampler, which we’d leisurely enjoyed with our first round of drinks. The place, open less than a year, was within walking distance of my store, and was thriving, by the looks of it. Every table was full, and I was glad I’d made reservations.

  Maria had opted for the chicken in a creamy wine-mushroom sauce over savory grits after my father explained grits were a lot like polenta. “I am sorry, no Abe,” she said.

  “Anch’io,” I said, trying out what I thought was Italian for “I am, too.”

  Maria laughed and nodded.

  “Molto bene, Roberta,” Roberto said.

  I took another bite of my Cajun crayfish stew, a delectable thick sauce brimming with crayfish tails, which thankfully had already been shelled. I inhaled the flavors of the fishy meat, the rich tomato sauce, the herbs and peppers and onions all cooked down together. It was served over white rice and was spicy enough to suit my California taste buds. A candle flickered in a jar on the table. The artwork on the walls, quirky scenes painted in a folk-art style, reflected summer in Brown County. One had teens cannonballing off a huge boulder into a clear lake. Another showed a busy farmers’ market, with an Amish family selling vegetables and jars of honey, while the painting closest to us featured a canopy of leaves and two girls fishing next to a red covered bridge. I glanced at it and then glanced away. Covered bridges weren’t my idea of a good time right now.

  “How was your visit to Adele’s farm?” I asked. I’d phoned her to see if she could take Abe’s place at dinner, but she and Samuel had other plans.

  “I love the sheeps,” Maria said.

  “Adele works hard there,” Roberto said. “She is not young. She keeps all those animals and has a big garden, too.”

  “I know, but she loves it.” I sipped the cool, crisp pinot gris we’d ordered. “Maybe it keeps her feeling young to be so active.”

  My father nodded.

  I gazed at him, this man I looked so much like but knew so little of. “Tell me about your life when you were growing up. What did you like to do? What games did you play? What was your favorite food?” The kinds of things he might have told me as I was growing up, except we hadn’t had the chance.

  Roberto laughed. “You know, I was a typical Italian boy. I played the football—what you call soccer. I went to mass. I ate what my mama served me, except I didn’t like olives. Too salty.”

  I smiled. “I didn’t like olives when I was young, either.”

  “We had lots of talking in my family at the dinner table. Politics, history, everything. So later I was on the discussione team, when I was sixteen.”

  “The discussion team?”
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  He thought hard. “I think you call it the debate.”

  My eyes widened. “I was on debate team, too! I loved it.”

  “But enough about me.”

  I would never get enough of him, and this trip had been too short, too full of busy. I resolved to make time to go back to Italy before the year was out.

  My father lifted his glass. “Here is to you and your business, Robbie, and your happiness.”

  Maria and I clinked our glasses with him, and I added, “Buon viaggio to you both. It’s been wonderful to have you here.” I had opened my mouth to apologize for the murders happening during their trip, and for not being able to take time off from the store when I saw Don O’Neill approach our table. Roberto had his back to Don.

  “Pardon me, folks,” Don began. He came a little farther around the table.

  Roberto’s eyes widened. “I would know that voice anywhere.” He squinted at Don. “But you look different, my friend.” He stood and extended his hand to Don.

  “I have been carrying a heavy burden.” Don clasped Roberto’s hand with both of his. He exhaled and swallowed hard. “I need to apologize to you. I am sorry. What I did was wrong, cruel, and criminal. I have been repenting all these years. Please forgive me.” The last came out as a plea.

  Roberto gazed into Don’s eyes and clapped his free hand on Don’s shoulder. “I do not keep the grudge. I am well, I am happy, I have famiglia, and I have found my first daughter. What else could I want? I forgave you many years ago.”

  With his bowed shoulders and worried eyes, Don truly had looked like he’d been under a load. Now his posture lightened, and he smiled with his entire face. “Thank you, brother. You mean it?”

  “Sì, certo. Of course I mean it.”

  “God bless you,” Don said. “May we have coffee together while you are here? I could take you to see my parents again, too. They were asking after you.”

  Why hadn’t I thought of that? I liked the senior O’Neills very much, and they would have been happy to see Roberto again.

  “But we leave tomorrow, unfortunately,” Roberto said. “So coffee in the morning, yes, but you will have to greet your parents for me.” He smiled. “This is my wife, Maria.”

  “So pleased to meet you, ma’am,” Don said.

  “I also pleased,” Maria answered.

  “You should all come to visit us in Pisa,” Roberto said.

  Maria nodded. “Yes, visit.”

  “Don, can you join us for dinner?” I asked, pointing. “We have an extra seat.” If he did, I might be able to swing the conversation around to Glen for a few minutes.

  “Thank you, no. I’m working in the store. I saw you folks come in and had to wait for my evening employee to arrive before I came across the street.” Don owned the hardware store in town.

  I thought maybe he also used the time so he could get his nerve up to face Roberto with his apology.

  “Coffee at ten?” he asked Roberto.

  “Coffee at ten.” My father sat again, but not before embracing Don.

  “Ciao,” Don said, his eyes damp.

  “Ciao, caro,” Maria said. She watched him go and turned to Roberto for a quick exchange in Italian, which ended with her nodding as if she finally understood the details.

  “I’m glad he came to speak with you,” I said.

  “Yes, as I am, also.” My father gazed at where Don had gone but perhaps his real gaze was at himself all those years ago, when he and my mother had fallen in love and ended up separated by thousands of miles.

  I still hoped to talk with Don about Glen. “I’m sorry.” I stood quickly. “I’ll be right back.” I hurried out the door. Luckily for me, Don was waiting for a line of motorcycles to rumble by before crossing the road.

  “Don?” I said, touching his arm.

  Startled, he turned to face me. “Oh, Robbie. I am so glad I spoke to my old friend.” He was still standing tall, and somehow looked a few years younger.

  “Me, too. But I wanted to ask you a question. Did you talk to Glen again today? I wonder how he took the news of Sue’s death.”

  “Glen.” Don shook his head. “Can you believe the police had to question him? In his grief, he was forced to answer questions regarding where he was this morning, had anyone seen him, the works. They have no respect over there in the sheriff’s office.”

  “Did they, um, detain him?” I didn’t want to use the word arrest, but I also wanted to know where he was.

  “No. They let him go home around four, he said. He had to go and tell Paula her mother was dead. I can’t even imagine the pain of it. Her with the baby and all.”

  The motorcycles finished their passage, the last one disappearing around the next corner.

  “I’d better get back to the store,” Don said.

  “Okay. And thanks for being brave enough to apologize. I know it meant a lot to my father.”

  He smiled sadly. “It was the least I could do, really.”

  Chapter Twenty-seven

  I sat in my restaurant at nine o’clock with Roberto and Maria and covered a yawn with my hand. “Excuse me. It’s been a long day.”

  They’d offered to help make napkin rolls after we’d walked home from Hoosier Hollow, an offer I gladly accepted. I poured us each a small glass of the special limoncello they’d brought me.

  “To Robbie,” Maria said lifting hers.

  We clinked three ways, and I added, “To many more visits in the future,” before I sipped.

  “Many, many more,” Roberto agreed. His phone dinged in his blazer pocket. He drew it out and frowned at what he saw. He swiped and poked and frowned more deeply, then looked up. “Our flight, it’s not going tomorrow.” He repeated in Italian for Maria.

  “It was canceled?” I asked. “Why?”

  “They say a vulcano in Islanda is active. There is too much, how do you say, cenere in the air.”

  “Ash?” I tilted my head. “That can happen from volcanic eruptions. Where is Islanda?”

  “You know, small island country in the north,” Roberto said.

  “Ah. Iceland. So no flights in Europe? The ash must mess up their engines.”

  He nodded. “They say maybe the next day we fly, or maybe not.” He smiled as he lifted a shoulder and dropped it. “So we stay longer. This is fine with you, my daughter?”

  “Of course it is. And I’m glad you can stay.” I went into my apartment to grab the hamper of clean laundry and let Birdy come back into the store with me. “Let’s pull out the blue napkins.” I held one up so Maria could follow what I was saying. “I can fold the rest later.”

  Maria shook her head. “I fold.” She commandeered the laundry basket, sorting through and pulling out all the napkins and laying them flat on the table. Roberto smoothed them as they arrived. Maria cleared the next table over and began to fold the rest of the load, mostly dish towels and aprons. I carried the clean silverware basket from the dishwasher to the table and listened while she and Roberto chatted in Italian for a few minutes. I sat, folding and rolling, letting the melodic language wash over me, not even trying to understand.

  What a treat to have another day or two with them. Too bad the murders in the background tainted the visit for all of us, as selfish as it sounded. My overly busy schedule didn’t help, either. I could send them off on a junket tomorrow while I worked, if they wanted. They could go west and visit Columbus, Indiana, a town with interesting architecture. Or they could drive south to French Lick or even all the way to Evansville or into Kentucky, for that matter. Pretty countryside surrounded us in all directions this far south in the state. It was quite different from the flat farming terrain of the northern half, where soybeans and corn flourished.

  I heard a rapping on the glass in the front door to the store. My father’s gaze met mine as a chill ran through me. There was, in fact, still a murderer on the loose in the county. Possibly two. On the other hand, killers don’t normally come knocking. I shook off the feeling and headed to the door,
flipping on the outside lights when I got there.

  Ed stood peering in, with Beth close behind him. I unbolted the door and let them in.

  “Sorry about that. We didn’t have our key to the upstairs with us,” he said.

  “Not a problem,” I said.

  Beth’s shoulders drooped and her lips were pressed into a line. I couldn’t tell if her expression was serious sad or serious determined.

  “Did you come from the festival?” I asked.

  Beth nodded slowly. “It wasn’t very festive, though. A lot of people seemed to be mourning Sue Berry.”

  “She did such a good job of keeping things running well,” Ed added. “There were definitely some glitches tonight.”

  “Sue had really found her superpower with the festival job,” I said. “It’s awful she’s gone. Did either of you know her? I mean, before this week?”

  Beth’s nostrils flared and her serious expression turned to a glare. Oops. I might have just poked a hornet’s nest.

  “No, we didn’t know her,” Ed hurried to say before Beth could explode at me. He took Beth’s hand. “Come on, hon. Let’s get to bed.”

  I’d be willing to bet one of them was lying about that, and probably both. With Beth’s volatile temper, it seemed even the smallest of slights triggered an extreme reaction. What if Beth had a run-in with Sue at some point in the past, and the disagreement about the entrance fee pushed Beth’s anger over the edge?

  “Good night, then.” I watched them trudge up the stairs until they were out of sight. Chase and Beth were both on Detective Henderson’s suspect list, or at least her persons-of-interest list, and they were on mine, too. I was surprised I wasn’t more freaked out by having a potential killer under my roof, and down the hall from my father, too.

  I turned back to Roberto and Maria. A stack of neatly folded clean towels sat next to one of aprons, and the table where I’d sat was now loaded with dozens of napkin rolls. Maria stared at her phone and murmured in Italian to her husband. Roberto glanced up when I joined them.