Deja Moo

by Kirsten Weiss

  “There’s nothing to clear up,” she said. “He wasn’t involved with that stupid prank.”

  Oliver slunk into the garage. He blinked rapidly. “Actually, Mom, it was sort of my idea.”

  Kendra’s lips whitened. “Stop talking.”

  He hunched his shoulders. “We didn’t think anyone would get hurt.”

  She sank onto one of the folding chairs and pressed her palms to her eye sockets. “This can’t be happening.” Her head snapped up, her brown eyes flashing. “A man was killed! Do you have any idea how much trouble you could be in?”

  “I didn’t do it,” he whined. “I didn’t see anything. We were aiming at the cow. It was pretty hard to miss. The thing stands thirty feet tall.”

  “Stood,” my mom corrected.

  Kendra rose and paced the garage. “All right. All right. We’ll deal with this. I don’t know what the penalty is for arson, but I’ll talk to Ladies Aid and the Dairy Association.” She looked hopefully at my mother. “Maybe they won’t press charges.”

  “There is the matter of Bill Eldrich,” I said.

  “Which was awful, but Tom Wilde confessed to that murder.” Her voice rose. “My son had nothing to do with it.”

  Oliver handed a wad of crumpled papers to my mother. “Here are those receipts.”

  “Aren’t you glad now I asked you to keep them?” Kendra asked him.

  My mother smoothed them out and raised them to the overhead light. “Yes, they’re receipts from Tahoe for the days in question. On your mother’s credit card.” She passed them to me. I thumbed through them and nodded.

  Kendra snatched them from my hands. “I still don’t understand what you’re doing here.”

  “I called them, Mom.”

  “You called …” She pressed a manicured hand to her chest. “You wanted to talk to them and not me?”

  He rumpled his blond hair. “Craig said—”

  “Craig said! I suppose if Craig told you to jump off the Golden Gate Bridge, you’d think it was a good idea too. He was behind this whole cow business, wasn’t he?”

  I fought back a nervous grin. How many times had I heard that line from my mom growing up?

  “No, Mom, I told you. It was my idea.”

  The developer moaned. “This is all my fault. If I’d waited to divorce your father, I could have spent more quality time with you rather than working late on my business.”

  “Mom, it’s all right.”

  “It is not all right. You caused damage to private property. And even though you had nothing to do with it, a man was killed. We need to talk to the police and clear this up. Now who else was involved?”

  His tanned forehead wrinkled. “I’m not going to narc on my friends.”

  “Oh yes you are, young man.”

  He shook his head. “I’ll admit to what I did, but none of us hurt Mr. Eldrich. If the other guys want to come forward, that’s up to them. I’m not telling who they are.”

  “But I can guess,” his mother said. “They’re all in your band, aren’t they?”

  I cleared my throat. “Going to the police is a good idea. We’ll leave you to it.”

  Kendra walked us to the door. “I apologize for flying off the handle. It’s just … he’s my only son. I guess I can be overprotective.”

  My mother smiled. “Of course you are. But it was just a silly prank. There was no reason for them to think things would go so horribly wrong.”

  The two of us walked outside and paused by her car door.

  “Just a silly prank?” I asked.

  “Hardly.” She sniffed. “It was a rotten thing to do. Ladies Aid and the Dairy Association won’t press charges, but those boys will face a huge bill from the fire department. Otherwise some other idiots will do it again next year.”

  “Good luck with stopping them,” I muttered.

  “Cynicism is unattractive. Now, I heard about this business last night with Mason.”

  Of course she had. I blew out my breath, leaving a trail of mist in the chill night air. I was only surprised she hadn’t brought the topic up sooner. “It was nothing. Mason was upset, and—”

  “He came to your house.”

  Warmth crept across my cheeks. “He thought I knew something about Belle’s disappearance.”

  “But you didn’t.”

  “Of course not!”

  “Which Mason should have known.”

  “He wasn’t thinking straight.”

  She sighed. “At least I don’t have to worry about you getting on a motorcycle with him again.”

  “You never had to worry about that.” Motorcycles terrified me.

  “Madelyn, what happened between Belle and Mason isn’t your fault. But you need to decide where you stand. You said you’d broken it off with Mason, but obviously there’s still an emotional connection. For both your sakes, you need to move on.”

  “Believe me, I have.” My chest tightened. Hadn’t I?

  twenty-seven

  I sprawled on my sofa, the room awash in gray Monday morning light. My brain ached. Yesterday I’d had to extract a kid stuck in Gryla’s cave while GD howled. Someone, who shall remain nameless because no one admitted to the crime, knocked over a display of Christmas fairies. And the heater had gone on the fritz, dropping the museum to sub-zero temperatures.

  The remote control dropped from my limp hand and clattered to the laminate floor. As much as I wanted to, I couldn’t sleep away my day off, not with Craig’s father still in jail. I was more convinced than ever that there were puzzle pieces to these murders that needed to be set in their proper place. And with Jason out of commission, I didn’t trust my arch nemesis Laurel to probe deeper.

  Also, while the museum might be closed, GD’s stomach never shut down for business. I had to feed and water the cat.

  Sighing, I tied on my sneakers and drove to the museum.

  GD was suitably ungrateful when I discharged my cat-owner duties. After a futile attempt to pet him, I left, driving through the morning fog to the Wine and Visitors Bureau.

  The place was closed until noon on Mondays, but Penny’s Honda sat parked, dusty and dismal, in the lot. The bureau’s red tile roof was cloaked in low fog. Mist twisted, wraithlike, through the educational vineyard, and I shivered.

  Stepping from the pickup, I adjusted the collar of my museum hoodie beneath my thick black vest. I wasn’t worried about Penny bashing my head in and burying me in the educational vineyard. Maybe she was good enough with a bow to shoot Tabitha, ditch the weapon, and then pretend to discover the body, but grandmotherly, grape-cluster-earringed Penny couldn’t have been the one to lure Tabitha to the Visitors Bureau.

  I walked to the arched side door and rattled the knob.

  Locked.

  I called Penny from my cell phone.

  “Wine and Visitors Bureau. This is Penny speaking. How may I help you?”

  “Hi, it’s Maddie.”

  “What can I do for you?” Her voice cooled.

  “I’m outside. Can I come in for a quick chat?”

  There was a long pause. And just when I thought she was going to turn me down, she said, “Of course. I’ll be right there.” She hung up.

  I waited.

  Bolts rattled, and the portal edged open.

  She peered out, her gray curls trembling. Seemingly satisfied, she nodded, her Christmas-ornament earrings bobbing. A fluffy reindeer pin was stuck to her Kiss My Glass sweatshirt. “It’s been a day for surprise guests.” She opened the door wider and stepped aside.

  “Oh?” I walked into the narrow hall lined with wine crates.

  Dean, in a thick down vest, emerged from Penny’s office, and we both stopped short. He rubbed his squashed nose.

  I curled my arms around my waist. Dean wasn’t a member of the Wine and Visitors Bureau, n
ot even at the associate level. “Hi,” I said. “What brings you to the Visitors Bureau?”

  “I’m looking to become an associate member.” He shifted his weight, his bulk knocking into a stack of cardboard wine crates in the hall. They wobbled, and he leapt to steady them.

  Associate member? My eyes narrowed. “For your dairy farm?”

  “I’m going to start doing tours,” he said, lining up the edges of the boxes and not looking at me. “And I sell directly from the farm, so it’s a good fit for tourists.”

  I canted my head. That explanation made some sense, and Dean couldn’t be our killer. But my paranoia was running amok.

  “Why are you here?” he asked.

  “I’m out of vineyard maps,” I lied.

  “Again?” Penny asked. “We just gave you some.”

  “Things have been crazy since the news stories on the cowbells. Which aren’t cursing anyone, by the way,” I said quickly. “I mean, they’re cursed, so to speak, but they’re totally harmless. There once was a curse but not anymore. Now the bells are just of historical interest.”

  Penny stared over her spectacles. “My grandson turns into a motormouth whenever I catch him doing something he shouldn’t. He thinks if he talks faster, no one will notice he’s not being honest.”

  My cheeks warmed. “The bells are a sore spot,” I said. “And I’ve learned something about Tabitha’s death I’d like to ask you both about.” I glanced at Dean. The police frowned on doing joint interrogations—something about contaminating witness statements.

  Good thing I wasn’t a cop.

  “You learned something?” Penny asked sharply. “What?”

  “Someone called Tabitha the night before we discovered her body in the vineyard. She told her husband that the caller said there was an emergency meeting about the Christmas Cow, here at the Visitors Bureau.”

  Penny frowned. “Emergency meeting? We didn’t have any meetings here that night.”

  “Where were the meetings normally held?” I asked.

  “Here, actually. We have space for meetings in the main room.”

  I nodded. In an open room to the left of the counter was a circle of comfy chairs for wine tasters, and the space sometimes doubled as a meeting place for small community events.

  “But I would have known if there was a meeting.” She braced one elbow on a stack of wine boxes. “I would have had to unlock the doors.”

  “That makes sense.” But the call Tabitha received had to have come from someone connected to the Christmas Cow committee—someone she trusted. “There’s something else. Have either of you attended any town council meetings recently?”

  Penny and Dean glanced at each other across the narrow hallway. Penny spoke first. “Three months ago, I spoke at city hall, pitching the Wine and Visitors Bureau to receive that tax money.”

  “I was there two months ago, when the anti-raw milk regulations were proposed,” Dean said.

  “What else do you remember about those meetings?” I asked.

  Dean rolled his eyes. “Are you kidding? It was all I could do to stay awake until it was my turn to speak.”

  “The meeting I attended ran long as well.” Penny’s lips compressed.

  “Do you remember what else was discussed?” I pressed.

  Penny tapped her chin with a crooked finger. “Let’s see. The tax money—lots of nonprofits were pitching for their share, including Ombudsman Services, the library, and the arts council. And of course there was the zoning issue for that new agrihood community. I actually spoke on behalf of that as well.” She glowered. “Maybe that was why Bill Eldrich turned against me.”

  “Bill was against the agrihood development?” I asked.

  “Oh, not the development itself,” she said. “Those were all vineyards. Sad to see them go, but that part went through fairly smoothly.”

  “Then what?” I asked, leaning closer.

  “The area around the development,” she said. “It’s dairy pasture. Kendra was hoping to buy up all that land and convert it to homes or a park. But it isn’t zoned for residential. They ended up tabling the motion on the zoning for that.”

  One side of Dean’s mouth curled. “They couldn’t reach an agreement on that at the meeting I attended either.”

  “So Kendra’s project is stalled?” I asked.

  “Heavens no,” Penny said. “She got the zoning approved for the agrihood itself. Getting the land around it shouldn’t make a difference one way or another.”

  But wouldn’t it? I massaged the back of my neck. As much as I liked dairy products—and I really do like dairy products—cows make a big stink, especially on a hot day. They can be noisy too. Not everyone wants to live near livestock.

  A breeze drifted down the narrow corridor and I zipped my vest higher.

  “How did Tabitha vote on the expanded zoning?” I asked.

  Penny turned and pressed her hand to the exterior door, as if satisfying herself it was shut. “I don’t remember.”

  “She was against it,” Dean said. “Got into a hot discussion with another council member about it.”

  “Do you remember anything else?” I asked. “Anything odd happening at the council meetings?”

  “The only thing odd is that anybody goes to them,” Dean said. “It was like watching paint dry. Oh, wait. There was one hot moment. A hairdresser was mad that she had to get relicensed or pay some business tax fee or something. Tabitha pretty much told her the rules were the rules. They really got into it.”

  “A hairdresser?” My chest tightened. “Was her name Belle Rodale by any chance?”

  “I don’t remember her name,” Dean said, “but she was a real looker. Tall, slim, long reddish-brown hair?”

  I sucked in my breath. Belle. She’d had a motive to kill Tabitha after all.

  Since GD had made it clear I was persona non grata on this fine frosty morning, I drove home.

  Ignoring the lure of the couch, I booted up my laptop at my cracked kitchen counter and drew up a bar stool. Then, shivering, I went to my room and slipped on a pair of fingerless gloves. As much as I loved the cheap rent, my aunt’s heater was barely making a dent in the winter cold.

  I glanced through the floral-print curtains at the fog bank. Wind rustled the tree branches and the mist parted, revealing my aunt’s house next door. The fog soon reformed into a solid, gray wall, and my nearest neighbor vanished from sight.

  Was it possible Belle had killed both Bill and Tabitha? My heels bounced on the barstool’s spindle. Even to kill Tabitha, Belle would have had to be insane. Mason would have known if she was off-balance. I couldn’t imagine he’d let a crazy woman live with him.

  My fingers froze, poised over the keyboard. Unless he’d been keeping her close to protect his son.

  I shook my head. Was my mom right? Was I worrying about Mason more than I should? No. I knew now I wasn’t in love with him, but I did want things to work out for him.

  My screen flickered to life, and I searched the Internet for Tabitha Wilde.

  LOCAL COUNCILWOMAN FOUND DEAD

  San Benedetto Councilwoman Tabitha Wilde was found murdered this morning. The San Benedetto Police Department has yet to offer a possible motive for the crime, though they have released information that she was killed by an arrow similar to the one that killed Mr. William Eldrich at the town’s Christmas Cow conflagration.

  The body was discovered outside the San Benedetto Wine and Visitors Bureau. A Visitors Bureau employee called the police after finding the body.

  Tabitha Wilde joined the City Council on December 31, 2013, serving the town of roughly 25,000.

  “She was a wonderful person,” said Robert Cross, who joined the City Council at the same time as Ms. Wilde. Cross also said that his brother graduated from high school with Ms. Wilde. “Tabitha was a positive force on the cou
ncil,” he said. “She will be missed.”

  Wilde leaves behind a husband, Tom Wilde, and a son, Craig Wilde.

  Neighbor Helen McKenna told the San Benedetto Times that she had known Ms. Wilde well in the fifteen years she had lived next door. “I can’t wrap my brain around this. She was a huge part of the community.”

  I scanned the Internet some more. There were a few later articles about the murder, short updates saying nothing new. I frowned and re-read the first article.

  I sat up straighter. Wait a minute. Something was missing. I didn’t know what it was, but something …

  A motorcycle rumbled up my drive. The engine cut, and I looked up.

  My cell phone rang. I dug it from my jacket pocket and answered without looking at the screen.

  “Hello?”

  “It’s Mason. We need to talk.”

  twenty-eight

  I leaned back on my seat and the barstool rocked alarmingly. Hastily I leaned forward again. One-handed, I clutched the fractured kitchen counter for balance.

  “After the way I acted the other night, I can’t blame you if you don’t want to see me. But I’m downstairs. Can I come up?”

  “You weren’t as bad as you think you were.” I hopped to the linoleum floor and strode through the living room to open the front door. Below me, Mason, clad head-to-toe in black leather, leaned against his Harley. His helmet dangled from one hand. I waved and hung up.

  He trudged up the steps to the landing.

  “I’m sorry about what happened,” he said, his blue eyes morose. “And I’m sorry I punched a hole in your wall.”

  “Look, about that—”

  “I talked to Dieter. He said he’d fix your wall and send me the bill.”

  I pulled a smile. “Thanks, but—”

  “You were right to steer clear of Belle and me,” he said. “I get it. It would have been weird if you’d gotten involved in our problems. And you and I both need to move on.”

  “Mason, I’m trying to accept your apology.”

  “Oh.” He brightened. “Well. Thanks.”

  A cold breath of wind stirred my hair. “Come inside. It’s freezing out here.” I backed into the apartment and he followed. “Have you heard anything from them?”