The Remedy Is Murder

by Mary Maxwell

  I held up my hand. “Swear it’s true,” I said. “And there are videos somewhere that prove it. One of our friends back then was a wannabe Steven Spielberg. He lived and breathed making movies.”

  “Well, if the videos surface,” Ruth said, “I’ll bring the popcorn.”

  “That’s a deal!” I replied.

  “Speaking of that,” Ruth said, nodding toward the counter. “I should probably get my order in so I can be home by nine.”

  “Tell your family we said hi,” I replied.

  “My hubby will be happy to hear that I ran into you,” she said. “But the other two will just roll their eyes.”

  “I maybe did that a couple of times when I was their age,” I said.

  We shared a quick laugh before Ruth said goodbye and walked toward the back of the shop to place her ice cream order.

  “She seemed kind of anxious,” Zack said.

  I watched Ruth waiting behind a couple of other customers. She had seemed nervous, but I don’t think anyone could blame her. Despite Rachelle’s alibi for the burglary, both of Ruth’s children were on my short list of suspects for the series of anonymous attacks that had terrorized the town and cost one resident his life.

  CHAPTER 33

  When Bradley Marx from Briarfield Pawn returned my call the next afternoon, he began the conversation with rolling waves of cheery praise for Nana Reed’s pecan pie recipe.

  “It’s simply genius!” he said. “My brother came through there a couple of weeks ago, Katie. He got me three slices of pecan that were the best yet!”

  “Well, thanks,” I replied. “It’s always good to make an old friend happy.”

  He bellowed a laugh. “Hey! Watch it with that word, okay?”

  “Happy?”

  “No, old! I just had a birthday and the Bradster’s feeling the years.”

  “Aren’t we the same age?” I asked.

  “I’m still twenty-one,” he said with another loud laugh. “How about you?”

  “Thirtysomething,” I said. “But if we went to school together, then you’re close to my age.”

  “Speak for yourself,” Brad said. “And remember what they say, Katie: Age is just a number…of things. Like an arthritic hip from too much football. And a bad back from helping your brother-in-law move again. And a bruised tailbone because your kid thought the middle of the front porch was the right place to leave his skateboard.”

  “Sounds rough, old man,” I teased. “Have you tried Tylenol?”

  “I’ve tried it all,” he said. “Nothing helps. Well, your grandmother’s pecan pie comes close to easing my aches and pains.”

  “Then I’ll have to bring one to you the next time I drive to Briarfield.”

  Brad’s laugh filled my ear again. “How about now?” he asked. “Need to make a trip this way?”

  “Not today,” I answered. “But soon. Zack and I want to try the new Greek place that we’ve heard so much about.”

  “Oh, that place rocks!” Brad cheered. “The only thing they’re missing is—”

  “Nana Reed’s pie?”

  “How’d you know that’s what I was going to say?”

  “Lucky guess,” I answered.

  “Which you’re good at,” Brad said. “But I bet you’re busy, Katie. I was getting back to you about the lockets you were wondering about.”

  “Can you help me out?” I asked.

  “What all did you want to know?” he said. “I’m looking at the record right now. And I’m a little bit on the fence here. I don’t normally share information about our customers, so I’m not sure that I can answer all of your questions.”

  “I understand,” I said. “If this is going to make you uncomfortable, don’t worry about it.”

  He chuckled again. “I’m not worried. I just don’t want to make a practice of this. And if I do tell you anything, let’s make sure we keep this between the two of us.”

  “Deal,” I said.

  “So what was it again?” Brad asked. “You left me the ticket number and said it was a collection of lockets, but I forgot what details you were looking for. And I’m sorry to be so scatterbrained. I guess that’s what happens when you delete messages before you write down the details.”

  “I was wondering about the person’s name?” I said.

  “Did you want the one that brought in the lockets?” he said. “Or are you looking for the person that came back to reclaim them”

  “Aren’t they the same?”

  He laughed. “In this case, they are,” he said. “But I’m just trying to keep everybody on their toes.”

  “I appreciate that, Brad,” I said. “And one more thing; was the person alone or with someone else?”

  “Alone on the original visit,” he answered. “But when she came back for the lockets, she had a couple of punks come inside while she waited in the car.”

  A chill clawed along my shoulders and down my back.

  “Punks?” I said. “As in teenaged boys?”

  He laughed. “You got it, Katie. And they were like opposites; one was slim and scruffy, the other guy obviously works out about twenty-eight hours a day.”

  “And the woman’s name?” I said.

  “Uh, yeah…” I heard papers rustling and drawers slamming. “Yeah, here it is. Her name was Alma Tucker.”

  CHAPTER 34

  The bombshell from Bradley Marx had left me so stunned and confused that I’d muttered a quick thank you and got off the phone to ponder the inexplicable news. Although Alma Tucker had always seemed like one of the most kind and honest women in Crescent Creek, I’d also been around the block enough times to know that deception and craftiness were easy for some people to conceal.

  As I sat at the desk in the Sky High office, I was feeling increasingly unsure about the next step to take. I’d already sent a text to Dina to let her know that I’d uncovered something important. And I tried to reach Viveca to hear what she might say about Ruth Grainger’s involvement in the Whistler burglary. I wouldn’t tell her details about what I’d learned from Bradley, but I wanted to dig a little deeper and ask about Alma’s demeanor in the past few weeks. Had she seemed to be her normal self or did Viveca detect any tension behind the usual jovial grin and bubbly laughter?

  There were four more special orders to tackle for the following day, so I decided to tackle those while my mind whirred in a circle with the questions about Alma Tucker.

  But as I got up from the desk and started toward the kitchen, I remembered a case from my days as a private investigator in Chicago. It was a small job for one of our regular clients. The Director of Human Resources had received an anonymous letter that claimed one of their employees was using the name and credentials of someone who’d worked in the industry in another city. It took less than an hour—and a handful of photographs readily available on line—to confirm that the accusation was correct.

  Maybe so, I thought. Maybe someone had simply impersonated Alma to pawn the collection of lockets.

  “Can’t get enough of me?” Bradley Marx said with a laugh when I called him a few minutes later.

  “Actually, I wanted to ask one more thing,” I told him. “I just sent you an email with a photo attached. Could you take a look?”

  “Sure thing,” he said. “I’m on the laptop now. Is it regarding something that you want appraised?”

  “It’s not about something,” I said. “It’s about someone.”

  “Ah, I see. Is this related to the lockets?”

  “Yes. It’s a picture of two women. They own a professional cleaning service here in Crescent Creek. I have a hunch that—”

  “Got it,” he said. “The image is loading now.”

  “Okay, great. When it opens, you’ll see two women. The one on the left is Alma Tucker. And the one on the right is her business partner.”

  “Yes, I see them. But don’t you have it the wrong way round?”

  “No, check the caption under the picture,” I said. “This is from th
eir company website. And I know both women. Alma is definitely on the left; Ruth Grainger’s on the right.”

  “Oh, okay…” He tapped on the computer keys for a moment. “Yeah, I just wanted to zoom in for a better look.” He paused. “And you’re right, Katie. But the woman on the right—the one with her hair braided—she’s definitely the person that came in with the antique lockets.”

  I felt a jagged, icy chill down my back.

  “I know this might be overstepping,” I said, “but can you tell me how much you gave her for the collection?”

  He hesitated. “Under normal conditions, I would never answer that question,” he said. “But since it’s you, Katie, I’ll break my own rules just this once.”

  “Thanks, Bradley.”

  “But first,” he said, “have you seen the lockets?”

  “No, I haven’t,” I answered. “To be honest, I never met the woman who owned them, and I don’t really know her husband.”

  “Well, I was just curious,” he replied. “Because they’re really exquisite. Whoever collected them knew what she was doing. And even though they’ll probably never be in short supply, the pieces in her collection were in amazing shape. I gave Alma Tuck—”

  He stopped. “I should say, that’s why I gave Ruth Grainger four thousand for the entire set.”

  “Did she by any chance tell you why she wanted the money?” I asked.

  Bradley started to answer, but hesitated again.

  “What is it?” I asked.

  “Well, you know, at the time it seemed like a joke,” he said. “But after what I’ve seen in the news and what you’ve shared with me, it seems really creepy.”

  “What did she say?”

  “Okay, but first,” he said, “remember that this was before our initial conversation.”

  “Right,” I said. “So what did Ruth tell you?”

  “And also,” Bradley added, “I didn’t ask her anything. I would never do that when someone brings in property. She volunteered the reason she needed the cash.”

  “Third time’s a charm,” I said with a quick snicker. “What was her reason?”

  “I figured she was joking,” he replied. “But she told me that the money was to hire a hit man to settle a score.”

  CHAPTER 35

  As I pulled into the parking lot at Kenny Wolf’s printing company, my eyes went immediately to the boxy silver car flanked by a full-size SUV and a rusty Ford F-150. The compact Cube looked even smaller wedged between the larger vehicles. After finding a spot for my car, I walked over for a better look at the petite minivan. There was a black decal beside a small dent in the back bumper. It depicted an inverted gold crown with three words: Reign Darkness Down.

  Small world, I thought, remembering the hoodie worn by the assailant who doused Eileen Lanier with the milkshake.

  I pulled out my phone, took a quick picture of the Cube and then toggled over to Google. I entered Gold Crown Reign Darkness Down in the search box. In less than ten seconds, I was reading about a heavy metal band from Canada. When I added Colorado to the search terms, I found an entry on the group’s 2019 tour schedule. They’d played at Red Rocks the previous month on a bill that included three other acts that I didn’t recognize.

  Before I turned toward the front door of the shop, I sent a text to Zack: Do you know a band called Reign Darkness Down?

  I waited for a few seconds, but there was no reply. Then I put away the phone, took another look at the boxy car and turned toward the building.

  Kenny Wolf was in the back of the shop talking to one of his employees, a silver-haired man named Elias who was the company’s first full-time printer when Rite Way Printing was started by Kenny’s father around the time Nana Reed opened Sky High Pies.

  “And there she is!” Kenny said with a crooked grin when he looked over his shoulder. “I thought you’d forgotten about your order.”

  “I’m sorry,” I said, walking to the counter. “Did you get my message?”

  He laughed. “I did, but I’m guessing that you didn’t get mine.”

  “Today?”

  He nodded. “An hour ago. Didn’t Harper tell you?”

  “Probably,” I said. “I’m a little scattered this week.”

  “Story of my life,” Kenny replied. “But here you are now, so give me a sec, okay? I’ll run in back and get your insert cards.”

  While I waited, I checked to see if Zack had replied to my text. There were three new messages, but none of them were about Reign Darkness Down. One was my mother asking if I thought she’d look better with neon orange or fuchsia lip gloss. The second was Blanche Speltzer inviting me to a luncheon in two weeks for a mutual friend at Café Fleur. And the third was a BOGO offer on athleisure sets from Pearl White’s boutique, Simply Chic.

  How about both? I replied to my mother. Orange on top and fuchsia on the bottom?

  What I wanted to say was: Should women of a certain age follow makeup trends? But I knew that would earn either a snarky reply or radio silence for a week.

  “Must be something tricky,” Kenny said, walking up with a box.

  “Sorry?”

  He laughed. “The expression on your face; it looks like you’re trying to figure out something tricky.”

  “You could say that,” I replied with a shrug. “It’s a text from my mother.”

  “Say no more.” Kenny chuckled again. “Mother’s can be tricky.”

  I smiled and tapped my knuckles on the box. “All set?”

  “Do you want to check the work?”

  “Not necessary,” I said. “I trust you. These are a reprint of something we did a couple of months ago.”

  He beamed a grin. “Thanks, Katie. I trust you, too. I mean, when it comes to pie.”

  “Can I ask a quick question?”

  “Do it,” Kenny said. “What’s on your mind?”

  “The little silver car out there,” I said, nodding toward the parking lot. “Do you know who that belongs to?”

  “That’s Rachelle’s car,” he said. “She’s out with her brother making deliveries.” He rubbed his chin as a frown appeared. “Did you need her for something?”

  “No, not at all. I was just curious about the car. It’s a pretty unique design.”

  He shrugged. “Suppose so. I hadn’t really thought about it.”

  “How do they get along?” I asked. “When my brother and I helped our parents at Sky High during high school, things could get a little intense.”

  “Brothers and sisters, right?” He filled the shop with waves of gravelly laughter. “My siblings and I fought like cats and dogs when we were kids.”

  “What about Rachelle and Joshua?”

  Kenny smiled. “Why should they be any different? They squabble. But I made it very clear that if he was going to work here, the two of them needed to leave the family garbage at the door. I don’t want my customers listening to them fight about how much time he spends in the gym or whether or not his girlfriend had him under her thumb.”

  “Oh? Who’s he dating?”

  “I should say ex-girlfriend,” Kenny said. “They broke up recently. But he’d been going out with Amber for a year or so. If memory serves, they started dating right before he came onboard here and that was last winter.”

  “Okay, thanks.”

  “Why are you asking about Rachelle and her brother?”

  “Actually, I was just wondering about the car,” I said.

  He laughed. “Bulldog wearing shades.”

  “Sorry?”

  “That’s how Nissan described the grill on the front,” Kenny explained. “Like a bulldog wearing sunglasses.”

  “Ah, I’ll have to check when I leave,” I said. “I didn’t see the front.”

  He made a face. “Not much to see really. And I don’t think it looks like that.”

  “What do you think it looks like?” I asked.

  “A big old lemon,” he said. “Rachelle loves that car, but it’s in the shop about every othe
r week. They stopped selling them in the States a few years ago.”

  “So it’s a collector’s item?”

  He shook his head. “Not unless you like lemons.”

  “Do you know anything about the sticker on the back?”

  He looked through the window into the parking lot. The rear bumper of the Cube was clearly visible, but the decal was too small to make out.

  “Looks like a black blob from here,” Kenny said.

  “True,” I replied. “It’s a gold crown with the name of a band, Darkness Reign Down.”

  “Ah!” he blurted. “That’s the noise those two listen to all the time.”

  “Which two?”

  “The Grainger kids,” he answered. “I let them put it on after we close, but not while customers might be coming in. It’s heavy metal or speed metal or whatever the heck they call it these days. To me, it’s nothing but somebody screeching about Hades and guitars tuned like buzz saws.”

  “Doesn’t sound like you’re a fan,” I teased.

  He grinned. “Not one bit. Give me The Grateful Dead or James Taylor and I’m happy. Put that crap on, I’m gonna need my earplugs.”

  As I walked back outside after thanking Kenny for the menu cards, the phone buzzed with a reply from Zack.

  You surprise me every day, babe. Reign Darkness Down is a band from Toronto. I didn’t know you liked heavy metal.

  I don’t really, I replied. Unless we’re talking about Nana Reed’s cast iron skillet collection. Will explain tonight. xoxo

  Luv U 2, he wrote. Now. 4ever. Always.

  CHAPTER 36

  “Rachelle or Joshua Grainger,” I said when Dina answered my call a minute later.

  “Nope,” she said with a laugh. “Wrong number.”

  “I’m not joking,” I said. “I think Rachelle and her brother might be involved in the attacks.”

  “Can you tell me why?”

  “Yes,” I said. “And before we get into it, a lot of this will probably sound circumstantial. But I think it all points to one of the Grainger kids staging the attacks.”