Peggy Dulle - Liza Wilcox 02 - Apple Pots and Funeral Plots

by Peggy Dulle

  The next booth sold journals. They were exquisite. Some were covered in satin and lace, others had wooden covers engraved with animals or celestial shapes. Maybe it was an omen since I was just thinking about starting to take notes on my investigation. I examined a few journals. It was hard to choose. Each one was unique.

  A young man stepped forward. “Do you like my journals?”

  I smiled at him. “Yes, I do.”

  He stuck out his hand. “My name is Don.”

  Everyone in this town was certainly friendly. I shook his hand and said, “Mine’s Liza.”

  “Bill’s new friend.”

  Gossip traveled fast in this town, too. “Yes.”

  “He said you’re looking into that teacher’s death.”

  “Yes.”

  “She was a nice lady. I have a card store downtown and she bought a journal from me.”

  “Her red one?”

  “Yeah.”

  I pointed to the journals. “These are really nice.”

  “Thanks.” His smile broadened, clearly proud of his craft. “I make them all by hand.”

  I picked up several and turned them over in my hands. “It’s hard to choose one.”

  “Here’s what I recommend.” He took the two journals out of my hand and set them down. “The insides are the same. It’s the outside that has to speak to you. Just look at them all, touch a few that appeal to you, then you’ll have picked one.”

  “Okay.” I did as he said, really looking at each individual journal. I touched a few that had dogs engraved on them but moved on. It was hard not to handle the ones covered in velour and fur, but I moved past them, too. Finally I came to the last table. None of them had spoken to me, as the man had suggested. Maybe I wasn’t the “journal speaking to me” type.

  Then I spotted it. It was baby blue with white clouds embroidered on the front. The sun was peeking out from one of the clouds and its sunbeams stretched over the journal. My first thought was of my mom and dad and how they loved flying above the clouds. My mom used to say that flying was like visiting God and seeing the sun shining made her feel warm all over. They were both gone now, but the journal made me feel close to them.

  I picked it up. “I’ll take this one.”

  He took the journal and started wrapping it in tissue paper. “You didn’t think you’d find one, did you?”

  I shook my head.

  “It’s always the same. People look and some walk right by, but others look and then their eye catches the one for them.” He put the journal into a white paper bag with handles and smiled. “I hope the journal brings you many hours of happiness.”

  “Thanks.” I started to leave and then turned back. “Did Danielle tell you why she bought the red journal?”

  “Yes. She said that her parents were dead and the lacy white cover made her remember the handmade doilies her mom loved to make.”

  I held up the bag that held my journal. “Mine reminds me of my mom, too.”

  “Mothers and daughters. They often have a bond that transcends death.”

  “I hope so. My mom’s been gone a long time. I’d like to think she’s up there watching over me.”

  “Somebody has to be. Haven’t you ever started to do something or go someplace and then just stopped?”

  “Yes.”

  “Maybe it’s your mom pulling you back.”

  “I’d like to think so.” I waved at him and continued past the next set of booths.

  I wasn’t interested in copper or ceramic dishes, so I kept going. The fifth booth had seven apple pots displayed. They were much more elaborate than the plain ones I already owned. All of them were dark colors with ribbing around the pot and the handles were inlaid with silver or gold. Maybe these were for sale. The lady was busy trying to sell another woman a purple pot, so I picked up the pot nearest me. It was black with silver inlaid handles and it said, “Made in South America” on the bottom. It also listed a price of fifty dollars.

  The other woman put down the purple pot, shook her head, and walked away from the booth. The lady selling the pots came over to me.

  “Aren’t these pots lovely?”

  “Yes, they are.”

  She gestured toward the pots. “These are the only ones I have left. They sell pretty fast.”

  “They’re much nicer than the ones that you get with the cobbler in them everywhere in town.”

  The lady smiled broadly. “Oh, yes. These are just like the ones that you can’t buy unless you’re a wholesaler. But I have to tell you that these are all strictly decorative pots. They cannot be used to make the apple cobbler.”

  “Why not?”

  “The bottoms won’t hold together.” She showed me the bottom of a black pot.

  I could see a small crease that went all the way around the bottom. These must be seconds or pots with imperfections. “If these pots are defective, then why are they so expensive?”

  She pointed to the handles. “It’s because of the silver and gold inlaid in the handle. But even if the pot didn’t have that crease, you couldn’t cook in it. None of the pots with silver or gold can be cooked in. The metal would get into the food.”

  “What about the pots with the jewels on the sides?”

  “You can’t cook in them either. Not because the jewels would get into the food, but because the glue holding the stones to the side of the pot would melt and they would fall off.”

  “Where do you get these pots?”

  “Pete’s Kitchen Shop. When he receives a shipment he goes through each piece. Any that are damaged he sells to me. I usually only get ten to fourteen pots.” She pointed to the pots again. “And these seven are all I have left.”

  She was definitely a good saleswoman. But I had a few more questions. I glanced at the pots she had displayed on her table. “Why are all of your pots so dark?”

  “It seems that the only ones I ever get are the darker colors. Maybe whoever is making the lighter colored ones doesn’t make as many mistakes.” She pointed to the black pot in front of me. “Do you still want to buy it?”

  “Yes.” It was a beautiful pot, and what were chances I would cook in the other three that I’d gotten? Maybe if I gave them to Tom, he’d cook in them. He loves to cook. And I’m just as willing to be the clean-up crew when he does.

  The lady wrapped the pot in tissue paper and put it into another white paper bag with a handle. Now I carried around three bags, and together they were getting heavy. I decided to drive back to the inn and get rid of my bags. Besides, I had seven days to see all of the booths and I was starting to stiffen up from all the walking. I could use a couple of the pills the doctor had given me for my aches and pains from the accident and maybe, a little nap.

  On the way back to Kate’s car, I spotted Jimmy talking to Bill by the eating contests booths.

  Bill waved and I walked over. “Are you finding lots of things to buy, Liza?”

  “Of course. I always do.” I looked over at Jimmy and asked, “Did you check into those files for me?”

  “No, not yet. I’ve been too busy patrolling the fairgrounds today.”

  “What files?” Bill asked his brother.

  “Never mind,” Jimmy said.

  “Did you make that sign?” I asked.

  Jimmy laughed. “Yes, a big one.”

  Bill looked from Jimmy to me. “What sign?”

  “Never mind,” Jimmy replied again.

  “Hey! Don’t treat me like I’m not even here.” Bill said, his tone elevated and his words curt.

  I put my hand on Bill’s arm. “I tried to fall into the hole where Sally’s house used to be this morning. Your brother practically saved me from tumbling in.”

  “What were you doing there?” Bill asked.

  “Just looking. Several people told me about the fire and I wanted to see the hole for myself. I’m afraid I got a little too close to the edge.”

  “First the car accident and then almost falling into a hole. You need to be more
careful, Liza.”

  “I’ve heard that before.”

  “How’s your investigation going?” Jimmy asked.

  “I haven’t really learned very much. But did anyone ever find Danielle’s journal?”

  Bill piped in first. “I’d forgotten about that thing. She was always writing in it.”

  Jimmy shook his head. “I don’t remember seeing anything about it in the report and it wasn’t part of her personal things that they sent back to her aunt.”

  “That’s weird. It should have been in her hotel room with her.”

  “It wasn’t.”

  “Could she have given it to someone in the town?”

  “I don’t know who.” Then Jimmy looked at his brother. “What about you, Bill? Do you think anyone in town might have Danielle’s journal?”

  “Not that I know of. Maybe Edith? They spent a lot of time together.”

  “No, Edith thought it was sent back to Danielle’s aunt.”

  “Maybe one of the maids in the inn took it,” Jimmy suggested. “I know the inn has dismissed a few maids for stealing from the rooms.”

  Bill nodded. “That’s probably it.”

  “Maybe.” I shrugged. Another convenient answer? I held up my three bags. “Well, I’m back to the inn to get rid of my bags.”

  “What are you doing for dinner, Liza?” Bill asked.

  “I don’t have any plans, yet.”

  “It’s Kate’s night to cook, so I’d love someone to come and be tortured with me.”

  I laughed. “I’d love to.” I waved to both men and went to the parking lot in search of Kate’s car. I have a terrible sense of direction, so it took me a few minutes to locate it. It was a good thing it had an alarm button on the key ring or I would have never found it.

  Shelby and I went back to the inn. She went directly to her food and water dishes while I set my new apple pot on the table by the front door. That’s when I noticed it. My laptop was on the round table by the window.

  I hadn’t left it there, had I? I thought I’d put it away in my bag and then put the bag into the closet. I walked over to the laptop. It was still warm. I’d been gone quite a while. Even if I had left it on the table, it shouldn’t be warm. Maybe the sun had come in through the window and shone on my laptop. Or had someone been in my room and looked at my files? Did someone wonder about my investigation into Danielle’s death? Was I getting close to something and didn’t even know it?

  Chapter 14

  The first thing I did was call my computer expert, Justin.

  He answered on the first ring. “Hello, Teach.”

  “You’re the fastest phone-answering person I’ve ever met.”

  “That’s because I have an earpiece for my phone. After one ring, it picks up.”

  “You and your technology.”

  “It’s the only way to go.”

  “Speaking of technology, is there any way to know whether someone has turned on your computer and looked at your files?”

  “Yeah, but it’s pretty complicated. You have to go into a master log to see what’s been going on. Why?”

  “I don’t know. I thought I put my computer away but it was out on the table when I got back to the inn.”

  “Maybe you just forgot.”

  “It was also warm, like it had just been on.”

  “Then probably someone turned it on and looked at it.”

  “It was on the table. Maybe the sun warmed it up.”

  “Is the top or bottom warm?”

  I picked up the computer and felt it. “On the bottom.”

  “Then somebody has looked at it. If the sun beat in on the computer, it would be hot on the top. When it’s being used, it heats up on the bottom. Are you close to solving your case?”

  “No, I don’t have any idea who killed Danielle or why.”

  “Someone must think you know something. I know you don’t like to hear this, but you’d better be careful, Teach.”

  “I know. Have you found out anything new for me?”

  “As a matter of fact, I was going to call you in a few minutes.”

  “What have you learned?”

  “First off, there is no way that Sodium Pentothal would accidentally get into a body when it’s embalmed.”

  “Then it was administered to find out something that she knew.”

  “Or something that someone just thought she knew.”

  “That’s true. How easy would it be to get?”

  “Anyone who could write a prescription could get it, and it’s also easy to get in Mexico, like any other drug.”

  “Well, the apple pots came from Mexico. Maybe someone ordered it and it came in with them.”

  “I guess it’s possible, but I’d think you’d have to go and get it in Mexico rather than just ordering it. Most of the boxes that are shipped from Mexico would be checked for drugs. I’d think they’d find a bottle of Sodium Pentothal stuck in between a few pots.” Justin replied.

  “I suppose you’re right,” I shrugged. “Anything else?”

  “Yes. I found a small announcement in a Seattle newspaper thanking Danielle Slammers.”

  “For what?”

  “I don’t know. I couldn’t figure it out. It just thanked her for helping them find closure.”

  “Closure to what?”

  “I have no idea, but I’ll keep researching.”

  “I’m surprised you haven’t figured it out already.”

  “Me too. But it’s weird because the announcement only had the first names of the people thanking her, so it’s made it difficult to find out what it’s all about. But trust me – I’ll figure it out.”

  “I know you will. I have complete faith in your computer abilities.”

  “That’s right, I’m the Super Cyber Sidekick, remember?”

  “I’d never forget that. Anything else?”

  “Not really. Danielle was a pretty private person. I’ve also been trying to get a lead on her sister, but that hasn’t proven easy either.”

  “What do you know?”

  “Her older sister’s name is Jamie. Up until the time of Danielle’s death, she was a high school counselor in the same district.”

  “What happened to her after Danielle was killed?”

  “That’s just it, I can’t find her anywhere. It’s like she just disappeared. The best I can figure is that she took a leave of absence when Danielle was killed.”

  “Maybe she went home to Minnesota.”

  “Nope. I called the aunt’s house and asked for Jamie. I told them I was from her school district. The aunt told me she hadn’t spoken to Jamie for the last five months and that puts her disappearance a month after Danielle’s death.”

  “That’s strange. Maybe she just wanted to get away after her sister died.”

  “It’s possible,” Justin said.

  “I know I’d want some time off if my sister, Jordan, was killed.”

  “Since she’s an assistant District Attorney in New York, that’s always a possibility, isn’t it?”

  “Yeah, she gets a lot of threats, but she’s such a strong person that she doesn’t let it bother her.”

  “Well, that’s all the news I have at the moment. I’ll call you again if I find out who put the thank you in the Seattle paper.”

  “Thanks, Justin. You’re the best.”

  He laughed heartily, “Don’t I know it!”

  I hung up the phone and glanced at my watch. It was only two o’clock; another hour and Ted would be competing in the runoffs for the hotdog-eating contest. I didn’t want to miss that. But I had time to give Tom a call.

  I dialed his number and it rang ten times before he answered it.

  “What?” He whispered, between gasps of air.

  “Well, hello, Tom. Why are you whispering?”

  “Oh, I’m sorry, honey. I’ve been chasing a new K-9 puppy around the back lot for the last thirty minutes. He likes to play the ‘chase me game,’ but I don’t.”

  �
��I never could understand why you and the other officers want to see the puppy before it gets trained. Why don’t you just wait until they are trained and then get the dogs?”

  “We like to see the dog’s personality before it goes through the training. It gives us better insight into the animal.”

  “I think you just like to be in control from start to finish.”

  “Cops are just like teachers,” he laughed. “We both like being in control.”

  “That’s true. Why a new puppy now? Are you thinking about replacing Duke?”

  “Yes. He has really slowed down since his accident.”

  Tom’s German shepherd was shot while they were investigating a break-in. It took Duke several months to recover. “The puppy will be off to training school next week, thank God!”

  “How long before he’s ready to come back and be a police dog?”

  “Several months.”

  “Does that mean you’re going to get rid of Duke?”

  “Oh, no. Duke and I are a team. David, one of the other officers, will take the new dog. Duke and I will still patrol together, but we won’t be chasing any bad guys.”

  “That’s good.”

  “Hey, I talked to the coroner and he said there is no way that Sodium Pentothal could accidentally get into a body.”

  I’d already heard that from Justin. “Thanks, Tom. I appreciate your looking into it for me.”

  “No problem. Any progress on your case?”

  “Not really.” I decided not to share the fact that someone had come into my room and read the files on my computer. “I’ve asked a lot of questions but don’t seem to have many answers.”

  “That’s the way it is sometimes. You ask a million questions to get one answer that helps.”

  “Well, as far as I know, I haven’t found that one answer yet.”

  “Sometimes it helps to write down all the information. I always keep a log when I’m doing an investigation. It helps to keep the facts right in front of me. Sometimes something jumps out at you.”