Amanda took a deep breath, trying to restrain herself from just leaping across the desk and strangling the old bat. “I don’t care how miserable your life has been. You have no right to take it out on honest citizens who are just trying to make a living.” There was a rustle behind her and as she turned her heart fell.
James was standing there, looking at her, his eyebrows raised in casual surprise.
“Are you done now?” he asked, arms crossed over his chest.
“Just about,” she answered, and then turned to the mayor and stuck out her tongue. It was juvenile, it was ineffective, but she wasn’t much at swearing and giving the mayor the finger just wasn’t her style.
James gently put a large hand around the upper part of Amanda’s arm and turned her toward the door, quietly chuckling to himself. Spitfire!
As he escorted her outside, Amanda tried to take a few deep breaths to slow her heart rate and get herself under control. By the time James had gestured to a wooden bench under a nearby shade tree, the adrenaline she’d been using for anger had turned to shaking. She wasn’t used to yelling like that or confronting anyone, and she still wasn’t sure if it felt good or not.
James plopped down on the bench beside her and they silently surveyed the green of the town square for a few moments. A few people were picnicking at the tables near the small playground, but otherwise it was mostly deserted.
“Having an exciting day, are we?”
Amanda snorted in disgust. “She started it.”
“What happened?”
It hurt to have to even say the words, how she’d been targeted for the mayor’s vendetta. “I came back home today to find all sorts of inspectors and workmen who want to crawl over every inch of my Inn. They said they’d been tipped off that, oh“--she started to tick off the items on her fingers--“I have rats, I have been building without a permit, and have sewer issues that are grossing out my neighbors.” She slumped back on the bench. “It seems like every time I start to make some headway in this town I’m getting smacked back down, and I’ve had it!”
“And you’re sure it was the mayor?”
“Who else? She’s out to get me. I’d keep fighting but at this point I don’t even know where to turn next.”
“You’ve got friends here, Amanda.” James’ voice was calm and sincere. “You’ve got people who want to help you, and we’re doing the best we can. Just so you know, I turned the letters over as evidence in your case, and the lab techs are having a field day testing them.”
“Anything?”
“Nothing conclusive. No prints, but they’re working on the handwriting. The good news is that it looks like we’ll be able to rule out your uncle. I compared those two letters and agree with you. The handwriting is totally different.” James was quiet, thoughtful. “I’m working as hard as I can on an official level to solve Emmett’s murder, but there may be places you can go and things you can ask that I just can’t as a detective.”
Amanda turned toward him, surprised. “What do you mean?”
“I think that the only way we can make sure you stay and are happy here in town is to solve Emmett’s murder, Amanda. Look, I’ll keep you posted on what’s going on about the investigation. The matter with the mayor is completely separate.” He sighed, sounding tired. “If you’re being harassed, you may need to get your lawyer involved.”
“I fired him.”
James looked surprised but didn’t ask any questions. “Well, you may need a different one, then.”
Amanda thought about his statement. Even though she agreed with the idea, the reality of having to pay a lawyer’s fee was sobering.
Apparently James could read the hesitation in her eyes. “I’d also recommend you don’t let people know that your uncle probably wasn’t involved in the murder. The less people know, the more chance there is for someone to slip up and reveal themselves. There are layers of deceit and old lies built up around this, and you’ve become the victim of them all. I don’t want you to be hurt and frankly, I’d like you to stay.”
Amanda looked up, surprised, to find James smiling at her. “You know, it isn’t every day that I meet someone who’ll let me help them bury about a hundred seashells on a freezing cold beach before daylight. That type of girl is kinda rare. Almost worth getting my feet wet.”
She laughed and stood up, smoothing imaginary crumbs off her pants, ready to go.
“Next time, wear your boots.”
Chapter 23
“I brought you some doughnut holes, Mrs. Granger.”
The old lady put her hand out for the box, smacking her lips together with glee. “One of my favorites! You shouldn’t have.” From the grip she had on the box, Amanda knew she should have.
“I left my teeth in a glass on the kitchen windowsill. Can you get them for me, dear?”
That was a first. Amanda dutifully got the cup of water, teeth included, and Mrs. Granger expertly popped them into her mouth.
“Makes eating them doughnut holes much easier, doncha know,” she said, matter-of-factly, taking a big bite with evident relish. “How did you know I was at home?”
“I stopped by Cuppa this morning, and Meg told me.”
The old lady nodded her head. “So, what’s new about Emmett? I hear they figured out it was him.”
“Yes, they did. I’m kind of glad things are calming down a bit, even if I’m still not able to have guests at the Inn.” Amanda dug a chocolate doughnut hole out of the offered box.
“You’ve been getting out at all these days?” Mrs. Granger asked.
Amanda nodded, enjoying watching the old lady gobble down the pastries. “A bit. I’ve been talking to some of the townspeople about everything that’s been going on.”
“Anyone ‘fessed up to leaving all those big seashells down on the beach yet?”
Amanda kept her eyes on the pastry box. “Not yet.”
“Uh HUH.” From the skeptical tone of Mrs. Granger’s voice, Amanda knew instantly that the old lady had an inkling of who might be behind the exotic discoveries, and maybe even the mysterious boom of tourism in town.
“How about anyone ‘fessing up to planting Emmett in your garden?”
“No one’s come forward, but let’s just say I have my suspicions.” Amanda tried to keep from sounding bitter.
The old lady leaned forward, all ears. “Really? Do tell!”
Amanda wasn’t sure what made her hesitate, except that the phrase ‘innocent until proven guilty’ kept rolling around in her head.
“I need to check out a few things first, Mrs. Granger, okay? I promise I’ll tell you as soon as I know more.”
The old lady sat back, obviously disappointed. “Well, pooh. Was hoping that all this stuff you were doing around town woulda brought you some new info.”
She waited, seemingly hoping that Amanda would crack and tell her some news, but when the young woman didn’t she sighed deeply and took a bite out of one of the doughnut holes.
“So, I figure you’re here to get information about as much as you’re here to bring me baked goods.” Amanda tried to ignore the occasional crumb that Mrs. Granger would eject from her mouth.
Amanda did her best to look uninterested, and asked, “Tell me about Brian Petrie and Emmett. Did they get along?”
The little lady snorted. “Not a snowball’s chance in hell of those two ever having gotten along. They used to fight like cats and dogs, even in elementary school. Brian’s a good kid, even if he does blow off those illegal fireworks on the Fourth of July. Always sounds like a damn war zone by his house.”
Amanda knew that she had to keep the conversation on track or Mrs. Granger would be telling her all sorts of weird details about townspeople she probably really didn’t want to know.
“So they fought?”
The old lady snorted, waving a doughnut hole at Amanda for emphasis. “You should’ve seen the fist fight they had about ten years ago. It was epic.”
Amanda perked up. “Fight? What w
as it about?”
“Who knows why men fight? All I know is that I was standing in line to buy my movie ticket for the Sound of Music sing-along, and then Brian Petrie comes storming in, shouting something about Emmett being a rat bastard, and punched him dead in the face. Caught him a good one.” She mimicked a poking fist. “Flipped him butt over teakettle across the concession counter and right into the popcorn machine. Broke the doors on the front of it and popcorn went flying everywhere.”
Amanda leaned in, expectant. “And then what happened?”
“I never did get my popcorn that night.” Mrs. Granger stuck out her bottom lip, actually sulking. “And they have real butter on their popcorn; not that cheap crap at the multiplex.”
Amanda tried to keep her voice calm. “I mean, what happened to the two men who were fighting?”
“Oh, that. Well, Brian wound up in jail for a day or so, but they let him out. I don’t know if the charges were thrown out or what, but that’s all I remember.” Mrs. Granger popped another doughnut hole in her mouth, happy again.
Time to change the subject, Amanda thought. “I got to meet Jennifer Peetman the other day. Seems like a nice girl.”
Mrs. Granger took a swig of milk. “She’s a peach. Used to run the local canned food drive every year she was in high school. Worst piano player I ever heard. Too bad about last year, though.”
“Oh, did something happen to her while she was off at college?”
Mrs. Granger looked surprised, white crumbs of doughnut glaze scattered around her lips.
“Jennifer never went to college. I mean about the baby she gave up for adoption.”
“What baby?”
“Her baby. She had to do it all by herself, since her folks aren’t in the picture and God knows that the father wasn’t going to lift a finger to help her.”
Amanda was confused, and her face showed it. “I thought she was at college for the past couple of years, learning Russian? That’s what she told me the other day, why she’s able to talk to my neighbor, the Russian lady.”
“Well, I can understand why she wouldn’t want her personal business out on everyone’s lips but I never gossip so her secret is safe with me.” The old lady shifted in her seat and leaned closer to Amanda, dropping her voice to a near-whisper. “She went off to her aunt’s house in Portland and had the baby there. After a while she moved back here to Ravenwood Cove, and then that Russian lady moved in. What’s her name? Mrs. Vodka?”
“Mrs. Petrovski,” Amanda answered automatically, her mind whirling. Either Jennifer had flat out lied to her, or Mrs. Granger was wrong. Amanda weighed the possibilities. It was true the Mrs. Granger had probably been born about a thousand years ago, but she certainly valued knowing what was going on in people’s personal lives the way some women valued diamonds and fabulous shoes. She might have confused about who had gone to Portland to have a baby, but somehow that didn’t seem too likely.
“I remember the day Frank Petrie went to talk to your Uncle Conrad.”
“Who?” Amanda had started to realize that Mrs. Granger’s conversations jumped around as much as a toad on a hot skillet.
“Well, Frank Petrie is Brian’s older brother. That night Frank went and talked to Conrad, after that loud argument in the diner. Charles had told him about the confrontation when Frank went into Ivy’s to get a burger and I guess he was real upset about the whole thing. Frank was new on the police force, years before he moved to Idaho to work at the ski resort up there, and he and Emmett were real good friends. Went to school together, in the same class, doncha know.” Amanda leaned forward, rapt and scared to interrupt the little lady in case she’d go off on another tangent.
“Frank always was too aggressive. He got kicked off the football team for being overly rough, and that’s saying something in this town. Guess he pulled Conrad over on his way home and gave him quite a piece of his mind about how Conrad had treated his good friend.” Mrs. Granger scoffed and took another swig of milk. “Frank always was a jackass.”
Amanda’s mind was scrambling, trying to go over the new information, when the old lady grinned at her.
“You are coming to my surprise birthday party, aren’t you?”
Amanda’s mouth opened in shock. “How did you know about that?” She shook a single finger at the old lady in mock anger. “Mrs. Granger, is there anything in Ravenwood Cove that you don’t know about?”
The old lady sighed and pulled a plastic measuring cup out of her purse. “If I’m so damn smart, how did my reading glasses wind up in the kitchen drawer and I’ve got this thing in my handbag?”
Chapter 24
Amanda balanced the big bowl of potato salad on her hip as she locked up her car, parked in front of the Liberty Theater. Since Ravenwood Cove had gotten more visitors, parking was definitely tougher than it used to be on Main Street, but today it was even worse since it seemed the entire village had turned out for Mrs. Granger’s ninetieth birthday party. Other people up and down the street were getting out of their cars and pulling out goodies to add to the potluck. Amanda could smell the hot bread Mrs. Mason had in her basket before she even got to the door, and knew that Meg had insisted on making the huge birthday cake herself.
The little restaurant was more packed than usual for a Saturday night, with folks chatting and greeting each other in the main room and long tables set together in the back meeting room for all the dishes people were setting out. The café’s back room was usually reserved for weekly meetings of the Elks or the boy scouts, but today it was lovely to see how many people cared for Mrs. Granger. The ninety-year-old birthday girl was ensconced in an upholstered chair, probably brought in just for this occasion, and was animatedly talking with a group of people clustered around her.
Hope I’m that loved when I turn ninety, Amanda thought as she set her homemade potato salad on the buffet and waved at Grace TwoHorses. George Ortiz and Charles Timmins were discussing the finer points of barbecuing beef brisket, and Thomas Fox was chatting about dahlias with one of the Hortman brothers. Amanda still couldn’t tell the brothers apart; they were so similar.
Mayor Sandford had apparently brought two whole smoked salmon for the party. Only the best to impress, Amanda thought as she ducked into the other room. It was difficult enough to be at the same party as the mayor; she certainly didn’t need to be in the same vicinity.
Meg was frantically gesturing at her from the restaurant’s kitchen, so Amanda pushed her way through the swinging door to find out why her friend looked so upset.
“She wants all the candles on her cake. All ninety!” Meg exclaimed, pointing to the big sheet cake on the Formica counter. She’d decorated it with pink and purple swirls and lettering, her grandmother’s favorite colors. “How am I going to put ninety little candles on this cake, get them all lit, and keep them going at the same time?”
Amanda suppressed a laugh but tried to be helpful. “Can you just set the thing on fire?” she asked, trying to keep a straight face.
“Ha ha freakin’ HA. Very funny, ‘Manda. Just for that, you get to help light them all.” She waved off Amanda’s mock protest. “Too late. You volunteered.”
Amanda glanced through the service window that looked out into the main room. “Lots of people here today. Maybe I can just stay in the kitchen with you.”
Meg’s eyebrows went up. “You’re trying to hide in here.”
“Maybe. I just have attacks of shyness once in a while. Big gatherings kind of make me nervous.”
Time for some tough love. “Oh, no. You get out there and mingle.” When Meg saw the hesitation on her friend’s face her tone turned gentle. “There are two reasons you need to go out there, Amanda. One: if this is going to be your hometown you need to get used to parties and festivals and stuff like that. We use any excuse we can to get together. Wait until you see the lighting of the Christmas tree in the town square. That gets people coming in from Morganville and Likely and most of the outlying farms.”
Amanda s
ighed. “What’s the other reason?”
“No one’s been arrested yet for Emmett’s death, and I haven’t heard anything new for a while. This is a great opportunity to talk to people and find out what they know. They’re not going to expect to be questioned at an old lady’s birthday party.”
Amanda surveyed the crowd. Brian Petrie was just walking in the front door, grinning widely and greeting people, and bearing a huge bouquet of hothouse flowers. Her mind went back to the fact that Emmett’s body has been wrapped in plastic and sealed with packing tape from Brian’s store. It was true that she was still avoiding talking to Brian as much as possible ever since she found out that gruesome fact, but maybe tonight was a good time to practice her interrogation skills.
If she had any.
“Okay, I’ll try.”
Meg handed her a full wineglass. “Take this out to Gram, okay? She asked for it twenty minutes ago but I’ve been so busy back here I haven’t had a chance to give it to her.”
“Your grandmother drinks wine?” For some reason, the thought of being that old and drinking liquor seemed odd.
Meg chuckled. “She told me once that at her age she was tempted to take up skydiving and smoking cigars. Let’s just say that wine is much less worrisome to me.”
After Amanda delivered the glass of wine to the chatting guest of honor, George Ortiz announced that the pastor was going to say grace. This surprised Amanda a bit, but she respectfully bowed her head while Pastor Tom said a simple prayer, thanking God for the food and for Mrs. Granger.
After the crowd echoed ‘amen’ there was a polite but enthusiastic rush for the buffet table and Amanda tried to look casual as she stepped into the back of the line, right beside Brian Petrie. As they shuffled forward toward the potluck dinner she quickly ran over ideas about how to talk to Brian about his relationship with Emmett, and just as quickly discarded them. How in the world was she supposed to interrogate someone over coleslaw and deviled eggs?
BED, BREAKFAST, and BONES: A Ravenwood Cove Cozy Mystery Page 11