Peanut Butter Pies & Dangerous Lies

by Willow Monroe

  Behind her, I spotted a small kitchen area that would make a chef weep. Gleaming stainless steel appliances were paired with black cabinetry and that contemporary look was tempered with what looked like rough-hewn wood countertops and an island.

  And next to that were double French doors leading out onto the balcony. They were open, letting the soft summer breeze waft through the large space.

  “This is just beautiful,” I said before I could stop myself.

  Caroline shrugged bony shoulders.

  “I brought you a salad and some freshly made dinner rolls from the diner,” I told her, trying not to stare at the rest of the lavish suite. “Would you like for me to warm them up?”

  She finally looked at me, eyes haunted and empty, and nodded.

  My cell chimed again and I took a second to check the caller ID. It was the diner. Whatever was going on would have to wait. I silenced it.

  In the kitchen, I heated up the rolls for just a few seconds and then removed the plate and silverware from the basket and placed them on the island.

  “Come and eat something,” I urged. “Everything is fresh.”

  She didn’t move but I took the initiative and led her to the stool at the island like a child. In the cabinet over the sink, I found glasses. I poured a glass and placed it in front of her.

  “At least drink something,” I said softly when she continued to sit with her hands in her lap.

  It was almost as if she’d forgotten how to feed herself.

  “You have to keep up your strength for Jimmy’s sake,” I told her.

  She burst into tears.

  Seeing her, sobbing into her napkin, broke my heart.

  She sobbed a while longer and then finally nodded.

  “Do you have any relatives we can call. A sister? Your mom?”

  She shook her head. “No. It’s just me and—” Then she burst into tears again.

  “I can only imagine what you might be going through right now,” I said. “If you want to talk, I’m willing to listen.”

  My phone chimed again. Not the most opportune time but I pulled it out of my pocket and glanced at the screen. This time it was Poppy and since I’d already gotten two calls from the diner, I knew I needed to answer.

  “Sorry, I have to take this,” I told her.

  She nodded and simply stared at the plate of food before her.

  “Hello,” I said, stepping away from Caroline and turning my back.

  “Have you heard?” Poppy asked.

  “Heard what?”

  Chapter Fifteen

  “Vic just made the announcement at a press conference. Jimmy Bones had no trace of peanuts in his system. And no food at all in his stomach.”

  I don’t know why I was so surprised. Tucker had already told me all of this. I wasn’t sure how they’d finally made the decision to make that announcement but at least, now the diner was off the hook.

  And everyone else was suspect.

  “You know what this means?” Poppy asked.

  “Yes.”

  “Jimmy Bones was murdered,” Poppy said. “Starla, did you ever tell Tucker—”

  “Um, no.”

  She let out an exasperated sigh.

  I kept quiet.

  Finally, Poppy asked, “Are you there?”

  “I am,” I said, glancing over my shoulder at Caroline. Should I tell her? She was going to find out sooner or later.

  “That gets the diner off the hook,” Poppy continued, echoing my earlier thoughts.

  “It does,” I said, moving farther away from Caroline and keeping my voice low. “It also tells me that what he told me on the bus wasn’t just the ramblings of an old man.”

  “Which you never mentioned to Tucker,” she reminded me.

  “True.” I wasn’t looking forward to that conversation.

  “I would suggest you talk to him soon about that,” Poppy said.

  “Yeah.”

  I glanced over my shoulder at Caroline. She was still staring at her food but she picked up the glass of tea with a shaking hand and took a sip.

  “I’m here with Caroline right now,” I told Poppy.

  “At the diner?”

  “At the hotel.”

  “Are you going to tell her?”

  “I don’t know what to do,” I confessed. That was unusual for me. Normally, I knew exactly what to do and say and when but now I was at a loss.

  “She’s going to find out sooner or later,” Poppy said.

  “She’s all alone here,” I said, wondering how I could get in touch with Herb and get him over here to stay with her.

  “Withrow?” Poppy suggested.

  “I didn’t get the feeling they were on speaking terms but I’ll see what I can do,” I told Poppy.

  “If you need me—” Poppy let the sentence drop.

  “I know.”

  I tapped the screen to end the call and turned to Caroline. She looked up at me as if just realizing I was there.

  “There’s been a development,” I told her.

  She sniffed.

  “They just announced that Jimmy was murdered.” I didn’t know how else to say it.

  If there was a reaction, I didn’t see it. She simply turned her gaze from me to the salad.

  A loud knock at the door made me jump.

  “Should I get that?” I asked.

  She didn’t respond but I heard a familiar voice calling her name. Herb Fleming. I hurried to the door and opened it.

  “Caroline, I just heard...” he began and then stopped abruptly when he saw me.

  “Am I glad to see you,” I said, pulling him into the room.

  At the other end of the hall, reporters were running in and out of the suite, cell phones clamped to their ears, tablets in hand.

  “Big news,” I said quietly.

  “The newspaper lady just made the announcement,” he said, looking past me to Caroline.

  “I told her but I don’t know if she’s grasped it yet,” I whispered.

  Herb nodded.

  “Can you stay with her for a while?” I asked. “I need to get back to the diner.”

  He nodded. “I was planning on it just in case the press decided to show up.”

  “Thank you. Here’s my card, I said, pulling a business card out of my pocket and giving it to him. “My cell phone number is on the back. Call me if you need me.”

  He took the card and nodded again, still focused on Caroline.

  I glanced over my shoulder to see that she was now slumped over the island, head resting on her forearm, sobbing quietly.

  “Anything,” I said to Herb.

  “Thank you.”

  I let myself out and headed for the elevator where a horde of reporters stood. On second thought, I turned and headed for the stairs where I almost ran headlong into Davis Withrow. He was red-faced and breathing hard.

  “Are you okay?” I asked.

  He nodded, grasped the railing with one hand. “What are y-you doing here?”

  “I brought some food to Caroline. She didn’t eat a thing at breakfast and-.” I stopped. “Why are you climbing the stairs?”

  “Have you seen that mob of reporters?” he asked. “I wanted to make sure Caroline wasn’t alone when she heard the news about Jimmy,” he explained.

  That was an about face from the way he had talked about her earlier, but I supposed this was a whole different situation. All of the people close to Jimmy needed to stick together now.

  My phone vibrated in my pocket. I pulled it out and checked the call. It was the diner again.

  Something serious must be going on over there.

  “I’m sorry, I really have to go,” I told him. “Please make sure Caroline is taken care of. And if you need me for anything, Herb has my number.”

  “I will,” he said gruffly and trudged on up the stairs.

  Just as I made the turn at the foot of the stairs, I glanced back up. Withrow was just standing on the landing above watching me. Was he trying
to make sure I left? Still trying to catch his breath? I didn’t have time to worry about that right then.

  The diner was calling again.

  Chapter Sixteen

  I reached the bottom floor and pushed through the door into the lobby. It was busy and Kat was working the front desk. She waved at me as I rushed through. I waved back, promising myself that once this was all settled, I was going to come back and really look at what she’d done with the place.

  Once I was out on the sidewalk, I called the diner.

  Barbara Ellen answered on the first ring. “Thank God,” she breathed.

  “What is going on?” I asked, dodging someone with a huge camera and almost running into someone on their phone.

  “Those guys are here,” she said, sounding breathless.

  “What guys?”

  “Those podcast guys,” she said. “They want to talk to you.”

  It took me a minute to figure out what she was talking about but then I remembered and came to an abrupt halt in the middle of the sidewalk. “Too Much Murder?” I asked.

  “Yes.”

  Hadn’t they gotten the message when they were here in town before? Hadn’t Tucker talked to them?

  “I’ll be there as quickly as I can,” I said, moving again.

  The last thing we needed in this town was someone trying to make a buck off of the murder of a defenseless old man.

  Both of the young men from Too Much Murder stood to greet me when I approached their table. Hands on hips, I shook my head.

  “Now, before you throw us out...” the shorter one, Jimmie, began.

  “Guys, really?” I asked.

  “Yes, really. It seems this little town has had a rash of murders lately,” James said. Tall with dark hair and Italian good looks, he flashed a smile that I was sure had gotten him his way on a regular basis.

  “Let’s see, three girls were murdered in the early seventies and now Jimmy Bones,” I said. “That’s what? Two?” I wasn’t going to remind them about Mr. Nettle or Nadine Krump, if they already knew about them.

  “This is a pretty high profile murder,” James said. “We want to give our listeners the inside story.”

  “Along with some laughs at our expense,” I reminded him.

  “No, please, we’d never make fun of the victim,” Jimmie reminded me.

  “But you make fun of Sugar Hill, our police force and who knows what else,” I told him. “I can’t risk our reputation.”

  Both of them scanned the nearly empty diner.

  “We’re just having a slow day,” I assured them. Surely things would pick back up now that everyone knew I hadn’t accidentally killed Jimmy Bones.

  James cocked his head and continued to smile. That sexy grin wasn’t working with this girl, not under these circumstances.

  “What if I told you I was a big fan of his music?” Jimmie asked.

  “I’d say you were lying,” I told him, taking in the old rock band t-shirt and tattoos covering his arms.

  He laughed aloud.

  “Now, I can’t stop you from doing your podcast. What I can do is stop you from doing it here,” I said. “Please, you’re welcome to stay for a meal or something to drink but you cannot do the podcast from here.”

  They both looked crestfallen.

  “I’m sorry,” I said.

  “We are, too,” James said, opening his briefcase. Several sheets of paper had been scattered across the table and he stuffed them inside.

  They thanked me for my time and I watched them leave.

  “I didn’t know what else to do but call you,” Barbara Ellen said when they left.

  “It’s okay. I’m glad you did,” I told her.

  “Have you heard the news about Jimmy?” she asked.

  I nodded. “Have you heard anything else?”

  She shook her head and went to greet two reporters who entered the diner. I watched Barbara Ellen guide them to a booth and place menus in front of them. Surely, business would pick up again.

  Tucker ambled into the diner and slid into his usual place at the counter.

  “Hungry?” I asked.

  He nodded, looking sad and tired and something else that I couldn’t quite place.

  “Let me get you something,” I said.

  “It has to be quick. I’m meeting with the coroner to go over the tox screenings to get a complete picture of what we’re up against,” he said.

  “Grilled cheese?”

  He grinned and gave me two thumbs up.

  I placed the order, poured him a glass of iced tea and placed it in front of him. “That was fast.”

  “High profile case. They rushed it through.”

  “So, any idea what happened?” I asked.

  He hesitated and finally said, “Evidently, the Accu-Click he used that night had been tampered with. He had enough epinephrine in his system to kill three men.”

  I gasped. “Who would do that?”

  “That’s a good question,” he said. “I’ve got my eye on a couple of suspects.”

  “Such as?” I asked.

  “Now, Starla, you know I can’t tell you that,” he said, shaking his head.

  “Well, I do know you start with those closest to the man. His wife,” I began counting off on my fingers. “His manager, his cook, security?”

  “Just let me handle this, please,” he said, giving me a crooked grin.

  I smiled. “Of course. It’s your job. At least me and the diner are off the hook.”

  “Are you?” he asked, again that teasing grin.

  “Tucker Ashe, you know I wouldn’t...”

  He laughed aloud and I joined in. It was good to have my old friend back, if only for a few minutes.

  “Seriously, Starla, keep your nose out of this. Whoever killed him meant business,” he told me.

  “I promise,” I said, fingers crossed behind my back.

  His sandwich was ready, crispy, crunchy, buttery good just the way we all love our grilled cheese sandwiches. I smiled, watching him dig into it with gusto and filled his tea glass again.

  “So, what’s your next move?” I asked. “After you look at those tox reports, I mean.”

  He shrugged. “Withrow’s background check came back clean. We’re looking into his financials now. We did make a couple of discoveries though while looking at Jimmy’s financials.”

  “Yeah?” I said, trying to pretend that I wasn’t even interested.

  “Yeah. He was broke.”

  That brought me up short. “Broke?”

  “Yeah, as in no money, nothing,” he said.

  “But, he’s a star. He’s written hundreds of songs, recorded them...”

  “And sold all of the rights to someone else.”

  “Like who?”

  “DEW Productions, from what we can figure out so far. Kellen is working on it,” he explained. “The thing is, whoever DEW Productions is, is cashing in on his death now. All of his old records and CDs are selling for double or triple the original cost. And someone just released a book about Jimmy’s life through the same entity.”

  I hadn’t thought about any of that. Pulling out my phone, I Googled Jimmy’s name. “Whoa,” I said after scrolling through several posts and then switching over to Ebay. “These prices are insane.”

  “Ebay?” Tucker guessed.

  I nodded.

  “Look who the seller is.”

  “DEW Productions,” I whispered.

  “It seems Jimmy was worth more dead than alive to this entity.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  I ran the initials over and over in my head, unable to connect them with anyone close to Jimmy. Perhaps it was some obscure record label or foreign entity. But wouldn’t that be the point. If someone had purchased all the rights to his music and then planned to kill him to increase the value, they would try to distance themselves from him.

  “Sad that he ended up this way,” I said. “My grandmother would be heartbroken.”

  “I know but he
’s had what? Eight wives? Alimony or, at the very least, payoffs. He’s been married to Caroline for less than six weeks. I’m sure she was expecting a different lifestyle. I’m sure he promised her a different lifestyle,” Tucker said, finishing his sandwich.

  To give me time to think about this, I changed the subject.

  “You want a slice of peanut butter pie?” I asked, seeing that he was done.

  “Sure,” he said, watching me while I cut a slice and placed it on a clean saucer.

  “That’s the real thing, right?” he asked pointing at it with his fork.

  “Real?” And then it hit me. “Yes, that’s real peanut butter pie. No sunflower butter in this one.”

  “Good,” he said with a grin and dug into it with his fork.

  While I watched him eat, I thought back to the distraught young woman who I’d just left at the Liberty Hotel. “Tucker, there’s no way she’s involved in this.”

  “Who?”

  “His wife. Caroline.”

  “What makes you say that?”

  “I was just with her. In fact, I told her the news. She was devastated, is devastated,” I told him.

  “Was she alone?” he asked.

  “No, Herb Fleming arrived just as I was leaving. He’s very protective of her,” I told him.

  Tucker nodded.

  “And Withrow.”

  “Withrow?”

  “Yes, he was coming up the stairs to make sure she was okay, too.”

  “That seems odd.”

  I nodded. “He was using the stairs to dodge the reporters at the elevator. But at least he had the decency to want to make sure she was okay.”

  Tucker scraped the last of the pie filling off of the saucer with his fork, popped it in his mouth and groaned. “Best peanut butter pie in the world.”

  I smiled. “Thanks.”

  “You just stick to inventing new recipes and keep that pretty little nose of yours out of this,” he said, standing and reaching for his wallet.