Premeditated Peppermint

by Amanda Flower

  I adjusted my gloves on my hands to give myself time to think of the right answer. “I wasn’t interested in the rekindled romance angle with Eric.” I felt my cheeks grow hot. “But I can’t deny that being part of Eric’s show on Gourmet Television would be good for my family’s business. When Rocky asked me to meet her this morning, she also mentioned that she would remove the romance piece.” I watched the Amish men again. The tent was up, and now they were hanging white Christmas lights around the entrance. I wondered if I would ever look at Christmas lights the same way again after seeing how they had taken Rocky’s life. I shook my head and corrected myself. The lights hadn’t taken Rocky’s life, the person who’d used them as a deadly weapon had.

  Aiden raised his eyebrows. “And you believed her?”

  “I was willing to hear her out. But ultimately I planned to tell her it wasn’t my call. My grandmother said that she would have to get permission from her district elders to do the show. You know being on television isn’t very Amish. As of yet, we don’t know what their decision might be.”

  “I don’t think I would have been so trusting of Rocky or Eric. They were going to do what was best for the show and ratings.” He shook his head. “I know Eric was determined to have you play that part. He never would have gone along with your not participating. He’s here to film his Christmas special, but he’s here to win you back, too,” Aiden said in a low voice.

  I snorted. “You’re crazy.”

  Aiden shook his head again and closed his small notebook, then tucked it back inside his coat. “Just keep this in mind, Bailey. A man doesn’t travel hundreds of miles during the holidays to work with his ex-girlfriend. At least, no man that I know of.”

  “You don’t know Eric,” I said.

  “I know his type.” Aiden removed his department issue ball cap from the back pocket of his uniform and bent the bill a few times, but he didn’t put it on his head. It might keep the top of his head warm, but it would do nothing for his ears, which were bright red from the cold. “What about a fit of rage or an accident? Could either of those have ended in your ex-boyfriend’s committing murder?”

  “I suppose anything is possible,” I said. “Eric can get angry. I’ve seen him yell at his sous chefs more times than I can count—a lot of kitchens are like that. Most chefs see their staff as family, so it isn’t done with malice, although there does tend to be screaming. Rocky told me that’s why they were filming the Christmas special here. The network was trying to give him a softer image. Apparently, being a volatile chef is no longer so appealing to their viewing audience. But I never heard him threaten anyone with bodily harm. As for an accident, there is always a chance for an accident, but wrapping an electric cord around a woman’s throat twice doesn’t seem very accidental to me.”

  “Nor does it to me.” Aiden stood up and then held out his hand to help me to my feet.

  After a brief moment of indecision, I gave him my hand and let him pull me up. He squeezed my fingers tight before letting go.

  Chapter 7

  Aiden and I returned to where Deputy Little and Eric waited. Eric waved his arms in the air. “It’s about time. While the two of you were over there making moon eyes at each other, I have been freezing to death.”

  Seeing as how we were on the opposite side of the gazebo, seated, and masked by snow-covered shrubs, I doubted Eric had seen much of anything.

  Aiden scowled. “Have you called your attorney?”

  Eric scowled in return. “I have. He’s on his way to the airport. Should be here in three hours.”

  “You must be an important client for him to drop everything and fly to Ohio.”

  “It doesn’t matter if I am important or not,” Eric said. “I’m rich, so when I call, my attorney comes running.”

  I pressed my lips together to hold back a smart remark that was on the tip on my tongue.

  “You aren’t under arrest,” Aiden said. “I would just like an account of how you found the body.”

  “I’m not saying a word about it until my attorney arrives.” Eric was defiant. Part of me wanted to whisper to him that he wasn’t doing himself any favors by being so difficult.

  Aiden was looking as if he wanted to argue with Eric when a large, white SUV screeched to a halt by the green, blocking in the coroner’s car. The driver of the SUV flung open the door, banging it against the other car in the process. I winced.

  The driver, a round man with a black mustache, did not seem to notice. “What is going on here?” he bellowed. “Where’s Rocky? I knew this was going to be a disaster. I told the network that we should film the entire Christmas special in New York on the set, but did Rocky listen to me? No, of course she didn’t. She never listens!” His face was bright red by this point, a shade that only darkened as he slammed his car door.

  Cameraman Roden got out of the passenger side of the car, much more slowly. He hung his camera bag over his left shoulder. There was no one else in the car. It made me wonder where the sound guy Pike was. Wouldn’t they need both of them if they planned to do some filming this morning on the square, assuming that was the reason they were there?

  Aiden and I shared a look. If there were a comic book bubble over Aiden’s head in that moment it would have said, “Suspect!” I couldn’t agree more.

  Aiden approached the men, and I followed him. He didn’t even bother to tell me not to. He was a smart man. Maybe he knew it was pointless.

  “Can I help you?” Aiden asked.

  The mustached man rounded on the deputy. “Who are you? Where’s Rocky?”

  Aiden hooked his thumbs through his duty belt. “I’m Sheriff Deputy Aiden Brody. Who are you? I don’t think we have had the pleasure of meeting.”

  The other man swore. “There is no pleasure in meeting me or in me being in this godforsaken place. I’m looking for Rocky Rivers.”

  Aiden’s brow went up. “You know Rocky.”

  “Yes,” the man snapped. “I know Rocky. I’m her producer, Linc Baggins. I’m her producer, although it should be the other way around. I should be the executive producer on this project. Everyone knows that. She stole—”

  “Baggins? Like the hobbit?” Little injected.

  Linc glared at him, but I couldn’t blame Little for asking the question. I had made the same connection, and it seemed apt because Linc was a short, thick, hairy man. Little’s question made perfect sense.

  “Where’s Rocky?” Linc asked.

  “I have something to tell you,” Aiden said.

  Linc wasn’t listening as he looked around. “What’s going on here?” he demanded. “This place is crawling with police. Why is that? Don’t tell me we’re being evicted from the square. Rocky told me that she had taken care of all the necessary permits. If she didn’t, it just proves to me once again that that woman is a liar at the core.” He took a breath.

  “Mr. Baggins,” Aiden said quickly before Linc could start up again.

  Linc rounded on him. “What?”

  “There’s something I have to tell you about Ms. Rivers.”

  Linc threw up his hands. “She didn’t get the permits, did she. I knew this would happen. I told the network this would happen. That’s what happens when you give a job to an amateur instead of a seasoned professional like myself. I climbed my way up the ladder the hard way with hard work and sweat—”

  “Sir,” Aiden interrupted Linc. “There has been an incident.”

  Linc pulled up short. “What do you mean?”

  “I’m sorry to have to tell you this, but Ms. Rivers is dead.”

  The blood drained from Linc’s face, and his complexion took on a gray cast. “Dead? But how is that possible? What happened? Was it a car accident?” He glanced around the square as if looking for the remnants of automobiles.

  Aiden shook his head. “No.”

  Linc covered his mouth and shook his head back and forth. “No, no, that’s not possible.”

  “Are you all right?” I asked. I knew it was a stu
pid question. Clearly, the man wasn’t all right, but I didn’t know what else to say or do. “Is there someone we can call for you?”

  Linc looked in my direction with wild eyes as if he were seeing me for the first time. Maybe he was.

  “Dead?” Linc repeated. “How could she be dead? She was the healthiest woman I knew. She ran the New York City Marathon, for God’s sake. There is no way she is dead. People like her don’t just drop dead. It doesn’t happen.”

  Aiden studied the short, sweaty man. “She didn’t just drop dead. We believe she was murdered.”

  When Aiden said that, Linc fell like a freshly cut Christmas tree into a dead faint.

  Eric stared down at the prostrate man on the frozen grass. “Maybe we should leave him there for a bit. It’s the most peaceful I’ve ever seen him. And he is always sweating—disgusting trait—maybe the frozen ground will cool him off a bit.”

  “We can’t leave the poor guy lying on the cold ground,” I said.

  “He will come to eventually,” Eric said. “It’s not as if he dropped dead.”

  I resisted the temptation to smack Eric. By the twitch of Aiden’s jaw, it seemed to me that Aiden was resisting the same temptation.

  At moments like this—okay, at most moments with Eric—I was the one in need of a smack upside the head. Really, what had I been thinking? Oh, Eric’s looks were as tempting as chocolate peanut butter fudge, which I had a weakness for. But once you looked past his appearance and charm . . .

  Aiden waved at an EMT who was jogging by in the direction of the van. “A little help here, please?”

  The EMT amended his course and jogged to where we were standing over prostrate Linc. “What happened?”

  “He had a shock and fainted,” Aiden said.

  The EMT nodded as if that was a completely normal and acceptable way to react when a person receives a shock. I wasn’t so sure. I had fainted only once in my life, and it had been back at JP Chocolates. Cass had been cutting lemons and nearly sliced the tip of her index finger off. There had been blood everywhere. All over both of us, the counter, and the floor. It had been amazing that a person as small as Cass could make so much blood.

  The EMT squatted next to Linc. “What’s his name?”

  “Linc Baggins,” Aiden said.

  “Baggins? Like the hobbit?” the EMT asked in disbelief.

  “Don’t say that to him. He looks too hobbit-like in real life not to take offense,” Eric said. “And I wouldn’t bring up second breakfast either. You know, to be safe.”

  Aiden looked heavenward.

  The EMT checked Linc’s pulse and lightly patted him on the shoulder. “Mr. Baggins? Mr. Baggins?”

  “Do you have smelling salts in the ambulance?” Eric asked.

  “Eric,” I hissed.

  He sidled over to me and whispered, “I wonder if he’s going to wake up and mutter about the One Ring.”

  I elbowed Eric in the ribs.

  “Ow.” He rubbed his side.

  Aiden shot us both a look, and I felt my face grow hot. How was it that Eric could bring out the inner twelve-year-old in me, and in front of Aiden, no less?

  Chapter 8

  “Mr. Baggins?” the EMT said again.

  Linc moaned and slowly opened his eyes. “What happened?”

  “You fainted,” the EMT said. “Does anything hurt? You hit the ground pretty hard.” The EMT helped Linc into a sitting position.

  Linc rubbed his forehead. “I think I’m all right. I’ve never done that before. It was so strange. I had a terrible dream. I thought someone told me that Rocky was dead, but that just can’t be possible.”

  “I’m afraid to tell you, Mr. Baggins, but Rocky is dead,” Aiden said.

  “Oh,” Linc moaned and looked as if he was ready to fall over again.

  “Easy there.” The EMT supported him under his arm.

  “I’m going to need to question him before you take him in,” Aiden said.

  The EMT nodded. “It would be best if we did that over by the ambulance, where oxygen is readily available.”

  Aiden nodded. He and the nameless EMT helped Linc to his feet, and when it looked as if Linc might tip over, they each put one of his arms over their shoulders and walked him in the direction of the ambulance.

  “It’s bad enough that he looks like a hobbit, but to have to share a name with one . . .” Eric shook his head.

  I ignored him and turned to Roden, who had been standing off to the side throughout all the excitement of Mr. Baggins’s faint. “Roden, when was the last time you saw Rocky?”

  He frowned. “Last night at the guest house where we all are staying.” He shot a look at Eric, and I couldn’t help but wonder what that might mean.

  “When was that?”

  He played with the flap of his camera bag by opening and closing a small Velcro pocket on the front of it. The repetitive sound was grating, not quite as bad as fingernails on a chalkboard but a close second. “Sometime between seven and eight, I would guess.” He shot another look in Eric’s direction.

  He removed an SLR camera from the case. “Mind if I get some stills of your shop?” he asked. “For PR purposes for the show.”

  I winced. I still hadn’t heard from my grandmother about whether we could be part of the show, but there was nothing that I could do to stop Roden from taking pictures of my shop. The photos were of the outside after all.

  I shrugged and watched as he changed the lens on his camera and approached Swissmen Sweets as if stalking a lion on the Serengeti.

  The façade was very pretty, and I could see why he would want stills of it. Swissmen Sweets looked like the perfect little shop in the snow. The two large windows on either side of the door were full of glass jars of candies and boxes of fudge. Evergreens and red ribbon wove around the displays for a little Christmas cheer but not too much Christmas cheer. As in all things, the Amish approached Christmas in a plain way. They celebrated Christmas because of the birth of Christ, but their gifts and decorations were very minimal. Most Amish, including my grandmother, didn’t even put up a Christmas tree in their homes. However, this year, Maami was relenting because I wanted one so badly. It just didn’t feel like Christmas to me without a tree.

  I was sorely tempted to flee to the safety of my cozy shop and away from the mess that Rocky’s untimely death had created. I would much rather be making candy-cane peppermint fudge for the Christmas Market than dealing with another murder in Harvest.

  Eric stood next to me. “Admiring your shop? It would be great on television.”

  I glanced at him. “Do you ever stop thinking about work, Eric? Your executive producer is dead, and you might be in some serious trouble because of it. Even so, it seems to me all you can think about is the next move in your career.”

  Eric’s face clouded over for a moment. “I have to think about myself and my career. No one is going to do it for me. If I don’t fight for the spot I earned, I will lose it. It’s hard to claw your way to the top. It’s even harder to stay on top.” He swallowed. “That’s something Rocky taught me. I know she wanted me to do the special with you to soften my image. The audience has tired of the angry chef persona. It seems nice guys like your Aiden are in, and guys like me are out.”

  I blinked at him. It was the most honest Eric Sharp had been with me in all the time I had known him. “I thought you said this was your idea.”

  “Seeing you again was my idea, not necessarily my image reboot.” He scowled, and the vulnerability I’d seen on his face a moment ago cleared. “I know that deputy of yours thinks I killed Rocky. I can tell by the look on his face.”

  “You said you don’t have a motive. You said that, in fact, Rocky’s death makes things more difficult for you where the network is concerned. I told him that.”

  Eric looked at his shoes, reminding me of a grade schooler caught cheating on a math test.

  I studied him. “You don’t have a motive, do you, Eric?”

  He looked up at me. “L
inc is the one with the motive. The deputy should concentrate on that man as the prime suspect. He hated Rocky and was jealous of all her success.”

  I glanced back to where Aiden and Linc were in the middle of what appeared to be a heated discussion. What I wouldn’t give to be over there to hear what Linc had to say! “Why is that? Because he wasn’t the executive producer on your project?”

  Eric blinked at me. “How do you know that? Do you have some sort of information superpower?”

  I shook my head. “Linc said something a little while ago that made me think so.”

  Eric shook his head as if in wonder. “I don’t know how you do it, Bai, I really don’t.”

  “Is there anyone else who might have wanted to hurt her?”

  Again, he wouldn’t look at me. “No.”

  I knew he was lying, just as I’d known he was lying when we were together and I asked him if he was seeing anyone else. He told me “no” then too, but I knew it was a lie. I just wanted to believe the lie. That’s why I stayed with him as long as I did. Now I couldn’t believe how stupid I had been. My face flushed with embarrassment just thinking about it.

  Across the green, Linc threw up his hands and stomped away from Aiden, making a beeline for Eric. “You!” He pointed a finger at the pastry chef.

  I hopped out of the way. It wasn’t my job to protect Eric. He was a big boy.

  Linc’s finger shook. “This is all your fault, Sharp. If you hadn’t told Rocky about this place, she would have never gotten the harebrained idea to film here and she would still be alive.”

  Eric glowered at the other man. “Calm down, Lincoln, or you might have a stroke.”

  Linc wiped a gloved hand across his damp brow. “How can I calm down? You know the tight schedule we’re on. We only have three days to shoot all the footage we need in order to edit and package it to air on time. Do you even understand the kind of pressure we’re all under? And now that Rocky is dead, the show might be cut entirely. How am I supposed to tell administration that our executive producer was killed in Amish Country, of all places? I suppose a pretty boy like you doesn’t understand that kind of stress. You don’t understand hard work.”