Murder at Stake

by Constance Barker

  I needed a little life around the house when I moved back to Paint Creek last year, and the green thumb skipped a generation. Hopefully these little critters will fare better than my houseplants have in the past. The best part about hamsters is that I don’t feel totally insane when I talk in the house...I can just talk to them instead of myself. They’ve helped me work through a lot of issues.

  “Okay, guys...sorry, Gracie, but ‘guys’ is a perfectly fine non-gender-specific term in the plural form, so don’t look so offended. Anyway, I have to get ready to go to Jonesy’s memorial service at the church, so just be good. I’ll chop up an apple slice and a floret of broccoli for you two, so share nice. Your water looks good.”

  I wobbled back to my other shoe and looked at myself in the hall mirror on the way to the kitchen. “Why, thank you, Wizard! I do look quite lovely today, don’t I?” It was just a blue knee-length dress, but my hair was actually hanging with a little bounce in my usually tangled natural waves. “Okay, okay...I’ll get your food! Just be patient. Babs will be here to pick me up in a few minutes! Ouch!” The darn latch on the cage bit me when I opened it to get the tiny bowl for their food. Okay...it was a pickle jar cover. I’d better stop at the hardware store and get a new latch one of these day.

  No sooner had I set the chopped meal in the hamster cage than the doorbell rang. I let out a little sigh of exasperation and looked toward the refrigerator in the kitchen. I was hoping to have a nibble or two of the Deloris’s carrot cake that I brought home from the diner last night. I muttered to myself. “No rest for the weary. I didn’t need that snack anyway.” Then I headed for the door. “Be right there, Babs!”

  I pulled open the front door, still looking down at my dress while tugging it down and brushing out the folds of fabric on my not-so-flat tummy. “I’m almost ready, Babs, but do you think the way the skirt hangs makes it look like I have a big butt? Maybe I should change...” I looked up and immediately turned to stone. My jaw dropped, and a cold chill ran through my body. I wasn’t looking at Babs...it was the face of Brody Hayes. I tried to speak, but only guttural utterances came out. I wanted to shrink into a little hamster and run away.

  “I think you look perfectly lovely from head to toe, Mercy. Babs said she was having car trouble and asked me to pick you up. I thought she would have told you, but...”

  “But she didn’t...no. Come in, Sheriff. I am so...I just...I didn’t...”

  Brody smiled, but not with a cocky “gotcha” smile. “No worries, Mercy. I’m just glad that guys don’t have to go through all the preparation and anxiety that women have to deal with every time they leave the house.”

  I was transfixed by his blue eyes and couldn’t look away, even though I was sure that I was allowing him to totally read my mind and tap into all my insecurities and improper stirrings. “So, you think this is suitable for a memorial service, Brody?”

  I guess that gave him permission to slide his eyeballs all up and down my body. It made me a little self-conscious of my imperfections, and I swear I could feel the caress of his gaze rubbing against my skin. He looked a little longer than necessary for a quick inspection. Then he smiled again, but this time we both looked away from each other’s eyes and snapped back to reality.

  “It’s very appropriate, Mercy.” He looked around my living room. “Nice place! Are you ready to go?”

  “Yes...yes, I am. Do I need a wrap?”

  “Nope. It’s a beautiful Spring day. But churches can be kind of dank, so maybe bring something light.”

  Chapter Ten

  The brand-new Incarnation Church was built on a beautiful lot with rolling hills just two or three miles outside of town. The parking lot was nearly full, as much of the town had turned out to remember Jonesy. The first car I saw as Brody drove toward an open parking spot was Babs’s little Chevy Cruz. The words in my mind worked their way to the back of my tongue, and I muttered through my teeth. “Why, that devious little matchmaker...”

  “Hm? What’s that?” Brody asked.

  “Oh...nothing, Brody. I was just noticing that it looks like Babs made it after all. I saw her car back there. I wonder if she picked up Deloris...” I put my Egyptian print silk scarf over my shoulders. It was wide enough to double as a shawl and accented my plain blue dress nicely. I opened my door before Brody could have a chance to walk around and open it for me. There was something about being a little dressed up and walking next to a handsome man that did make this feel like a date. But it was also uncomfortable, as I knew tongues would soon be wagging once we walked into the service together.

  “Hidee ho there, neighbors!”

  It was Junior with his dad, Jake, driving past us a little too fast and zooming his dad’s pickup truck into a stall in front of us. Normally I would have waved and kept on walking, but not this time. “Let’s wait for them, Brody. We can all go in together.” Some tongues would still wag, but at least I would have some plausible deniability.

  Babs was sitting next to Deloris in the third row, and she turned around and waved for us to join her. Great. Then she whispered loudly.

  “Come on! Come on!”

  By now she had brought everyone’s attention to us, and all heads turned including the Ladies’ Aid group in the front row on the other side of the aisle. Hattie immediately turned to Sandy and started whispering.

  “You two go on ahead,” Junior said. “Me and Pops will sit in the back here so we can be the first ones out and get a good place at the diner as soon as you open it up afterwards.”

  Swell. That’s where I had intended to sit too, but we made our way past the entire congregation and joined Babs and Deloris. Smoke and Red were right in front of them. Smoke raised his eyebrows at us twice and Red snickered. Real mature, guys. I couldn’t wait for this to be over.

  Pastor D’Arnaud walked out to the pulpit in ceremonial garb, and the congregation grew quiet. His wife Vonnie was seated at the edge of the sanctuary with her head down and hands in white gloves folded in her lap. I looked around for Josie Jones, but couldn’t find her.

  As the Pastor began his eulogy I whispered to Babs, “Where’s Josie?”

  She shook her head and shrugged. “Not here!”

  That seemed very odd to me. Either she was an emotional wreck, or she didn’t care at all. Either way, it was still unusual for the widow not to show up for her husband’s memorial service, even if they were having problems. She probably wanted to avoid this big crowd, and I was sure she'd show up for the burial tomorrow.

  Pastor D’Arnaud seemed a little off too. He did a lot of scripture reading and prayers, but had almost nothing to say about Carl Jones, the man – our friend and neighbor. Surely, there were many good things he could say about the man.

  The pastor and his wife were at the door to greet everyone as we filed out of the church.

  “Nice sermon, Pastor,” I lied. “Why don’t you and Vonnie stop at the diner and let us provide your dinner today? I’m sure the people would all be happy you see you there.”

  “That’s kind of you, Mercy, but Vonnie and I have to get to the butcher shop.”

  He was quite terse and then moved on to shake hands with Brody and Red and the others behind me. Butcher shop? Jonesy ran the butcher shop, so it’s probably not even open. Vonnie didn’t even make eye contact and just swayed like a little girl with her hands behind her back. Her totally inward behavior made me wonder if she was battered...I had seen a lot of Battered Wife Syndrome in the hospital. But of course, that was impossible...the Pastor was a wonderful man.

  Brody was quiet, reading the messages on his phone, until we got to the car. It seemed that he had something on his mind. He stood by my locked door and looked at the sky, using one hand as a visor to block the sun. Then he looked at me.

  “The Medical Examiner agrees with you, Mercy.” He pushed the button on his key fob to unlock my door and opened it. “It looks like we’ve got a murder to solve.”

  Chapter Eleven

  Tongues had been
wagging with all kinds of crazy theories about Jonesy’s unusual death, especially once the town became overrun with investigators and crime scene teams from three counties...and this morning’s Calhoun Bi-Weekly Tribune confirmed that it was a murder.

  “It’s been pretty obvious from the first day that they’re looking at this as a murder,” Red told Jake, folding the newspaper and sliding it down the counter for other guests. “All these high-falutin medical teams in white lab coats swarming over Jonesy’s farm, and these guys in suits instead of Smokey uniforms aren’t just here for the freak show of a guy with a stake through his heart.”

  “That’s what I’ve been telling you all along,” Jake agreed, looking around at the suits and lab coats in three of the tables by the windows. He lowered his voice. “It’s a government conspiracy, all because of those mind control drugs they were injecting into the meat at Jonesy’s butcher shop.” Then, with his eyes conspicuously on the investigation team, he cupped his hand between his mouth and Red’s ear and whispered, “And these are all government agents, here to cover up their little science experiment. They’re looking for ways to pin the murder on some poor soul from Paint Creek so we never find out that they were the ones who done him in when he threatened to blow the whistle.”

  “Well, that might make a good movie, Jake, and I wouldn’t be surprised to find out that they planted some kind of worm in your brain to control your mind. But Junior’s story about vampires is more likely than your idea. It’s pretty simple, really – Josie didn’t show up for his memorial service or his funeral, and nobody knows where she is. Everybody knows they weren’t getting along, and Florence said that some nights she could hear them arguing clear over at her place across a couple of acres. The wife knocked him out and pounded that stake through his heart to make it look like the tornado did it...or else she had her secret lover do it. That’s what happened. Mystery solved.”

  Deloris topped off Red’s coffee and set down another frosty coffee cup of ice cold beer for Jake. “At least someone around here still has a lick of sense. No offense, Jake, but your wild stories are just too far-fetched for people with a normal brain.”

  Jake snapped his head toward the tall waitress. “Are you saying that my brain...”

  Babs put her hand on his shoulder and rubbed his strong upper arm. “She’s saying that your brain is way above normal, Jake. Most average people just can’t latch onto your big ideas.” She winked at Deloris and brought a tray of dirty dishes to the kitchen.

  Deloris shook her head a little but went along with her friend. “That’s right, Jake. Your big brain is just too far ahead of the rest of us, so we have to try to come up with everyday explanations we can comprehend with our tiny little pea brains.”

  The front door opened to a petite woman in a blue dress walking backwards with a cameraman focused on her. It was Talia Jones, the news lady from TV.

  “We’re here at the Old School Diner in Paint Creek, where friends of the murder victim, Carl Jones, are going about their lives in the wake of this horrific crime. Let’s see what the locals can tell us about this crime and the neighbor they lost so tragically.”

  She was heading towards Jake at the counter, who had turned his stool around to see what was going on. Afraid that the town’s sanity would be judged by Jake’s story of government intrigue, Deloris pointed toward me. “That’s the owner, Mercy Howard,” she said. “She’s good friends with Sheriff Hayes, so she probably knows more than anybody else.”

  I gave Deloris a look of consternation from where I stood at the end of the counter, but quickly plastered on a smile as the camera turned towards me. Did I comb my hair? I should have worn lipstick. Well frick...

  “Miss Howard, how has this murder affected your small community in Paint Creek?”

  What did she say? In a nervous self-conscious moment I forgot to listen and was caught totally off guard. I felt like I had slipped into a dream world, but did my best to appear like a normal human being. I put on one of those concerned furrowed-brow smiles like people give you at funerals.

  “I...uh...Carl was a wonderful man and a good friend. He was my butcher and my accountant, and he was always kind as well as very good at everything he did. He was a big part of our lives, and we can’t believe he’s gone.”

  “Is it true that he was planning to run for Mayor in the fall election? Would the town have elected him?”

  What? That was something I had never heard before. Was Bud retiring? I’m sure I had a confused look on my face, but fortunately Sheriff Hayes just walked through the door, and the crew from Channel 4 Live Action News quickly pounced on the uniformed man in the tall hat.

  Brody stopped in his tracks, knowing he was trapped. I mouthed “Thank you!” to him as Talia attacked.

  “Sheriff, what’s the latest on the unusual murder? Do you have anyone in custody? A principal suspect? Or at least a person of interest in the case?”

  Brody did his best to make his non-answers sound like they were substantial until Talia and her crew followed the investigative team of detectives and crime scene inspectors out the door. I had moved to the small window booth, and Brody joined me there, hailing Babs for a cup of coffee on the way. It seemed like every head in the diner turned to look at us. Some smiled slyly while others began to whisper to their neighbor without taking their eyes off us.

  Babs wasn’t so shy. “Here’s your black coffee, Sheriff. Would your lady friend like anything?” She smiled smugly at me.

  I gave her the evil eye, and she bounced away proudly.

  “Maybe I should sit somewhere else, Mercy...”

  “Just pay no attention to these gossip hounds, Brody. We both know there’s nothing going on between us.”

  He put his head down and drummed the table with his fingers. Then he looked at me.

  “What is it, Brody?’

  “Well...it’s just...maybe they’re not altogether wrong. Maybe there’s a part of me that would like to get closer to you...”

  Deloris sneaked up from behind Brody and set a raspberry tea on the table for me. “And we all know what part that is, don’t we, Sheriff?”

  “Deloris!” I said, quite aghast as she made her getaway.

  Brody’s face turned beet red, and he started to rise to his feet.

  I reached across the table and grabbed his wrist. “Sit.”

  He slowly obeyed and started to apologize.

  “Just never mind Deloris and the others,” I reassured him. “It’s none of their business what either of us think or feel. I mean, after all, there aren’t too many people around this town in their 30s with a college education and who’ve seen a little bit of the world outside of these city limits. It’s only natural that we would be comfortable talking to each other.”

  I hoped I hadn’t said too much. I didn’t want to lead him on...or myself, either...but it did seem to settle him down. I had a lot of great friends in Paint Creek, but none I could discuss Shakespeare or macro-economics with. It was nice to have a broad, rational mind I could connect with at times.

  We talked for a couple of hours, wrapped in our own little bubble, almost unaware of the diners around us. Eventually, as dinner time came and went, all of the guests had trickled out. Even Deloris and Smoke were gone now, and Babs said her goodbye as she went out the back door to the stairway to her apartment.

  Brody looked at his watch, grinning broadly. “Wow...time flies when you’re...”

  “...having a great time,” I finished, a warm smile on my face. “Stay a while. I want to pick your brain about Jonesy. I know you can’t tell me much, but...”

  “I’ll tell you anything, Mercy. Your insights have already helped to move the investigation ahead. I could use your help. But, you have to be sworn to secrecy on everything I tell you.”

  “Scout’s honor,” I said, crossing my heart.

  “I think scouts do something like this,” he said, holding up his right hand like he was taking an oath, with his thumb holding down his pinky nail
and three fingers rising straight up.

  “So...tell me. Where has your investigation led you?”

  “Well, we’ve pretty much ruled out vampires,” he began with a smile.

  “Junior will be disappointed!”

  Then he got a more serious look. “Yeah, he might be. It seems that his dad’s theory about mind control drugs in the meat actually began with Junior. A lot of people saw Carl and him arguing about it at the butcher shop three or four times in the past few weeks.”

  I was confused. “Why on earth would he come up with an idea like that? I assumed that Jake had just been watching too much cable television lately.”

  “Well, Mr. Jenkins said that some federal USDA inspectors had been by the butcher shop, following up on some mad cow threat in southern Indiana. They were taking some needle biopsy kind of samples from the cuts of beef, and Junior figured they were injecting something. When he asked them what they were doing, they just told him something like, ‘You didn’t see anything. We were never here.’ Jake figured they were seeing if they could control his mind with their Jedi mind trick, and then Jake...”

  “Jake put his theory together from there. Interesting.”

  “So, we’re going to bring Junior in tomorrow and interrogate him.”

  “What!” I gasped. “Brody, Junior is a little eccentric, but he’s not a killer! There’s no need to bring him in.”

  “Maybe so, maybe no. But somebody killed Carl Jones. So just tell me who the killer in town is, and I’ll go and arrest him.”

  He had a point. “Well, I know somebody killed Jonesy, Brody. But I really don’t think it was Junior. Any other suspects?”

  “Everybody in town. If you’re asking who else had the motive and opportunity, right now that would be Josie.”

  Oh, crud.

  Chapter Twelve

  Jake was inconsolable at the diner the next morning.