Thyme to Kill

by Tegan Maher

  Don thought for a moment. “I think her dad took a new job.”

  “Is the guy she was seeing in high school still around?”

  Don chuckled. “Persistent, aren’t you? Well, nothing wrong with that I suppose.” He thought for a moment. “He is, and I’ve heard the same rumors you have. If you’re thinking she was having an affair with him, you’re way off base. He’s been happily married for thirty years—and I mean happily. He’d never step out on Stella.”

  He studied me for a moment. “Don’t put too much stock in all these petty rumors. Nothing good can come from listening to the ramblings of bitter, bored old women with nothing better to do than tell stories and speculate.”

  I sighed. “I know. I’m just trying to help Dee.”

  “Well don’t use the gossip mill for that,” he chastised.

  “You’re probably right,” I agreed.

  “I know I am. You have a good night, and if you need anything, don’t hesitate to call,” he said with a wink and a smile.

  “I promise, and enjoy the lake.”

  He gave a little salute and grinned as he climbed into his truck. “A bad day fishin’ is better than a good day at work.”

  I squinted as my eyes adjusted to the dark interior of the bar and was a little disappointed to see the place was nearly empty. Surely even a small town bar would be busy on a Friday night, right?

  I’d just tucked my purse behind the bar and greeted the couple regulars at the end when Scout walked in. He smiled when our eyes met and he strode to the bar, closing the gap between us in about four steps.

  “So, did you come to celebrate the end of another long week?” I asked.

  Scout chuckled as he slid up onto a barstool. “Nah. Just thought I’d stop in for a cold one.”

  “What’s your poison?” I asked as I wiped the bar in front of him.

  “Bud,” he said, with a raised brow, “but skip the poison.”

  I tilted my head at him. “Hardcore, or are you open to adventure?” I’d been pleasantly surprised the day before to see that Don carried one of my personal favorites, a Florida beer called Hop Gun. The guys had told me he kept a case of it for one of the regulars, a guy who spent summers in Mercy and winters in Florida. Since he’d already left for the season, I figured his beer might as well not go to waste.

  “I’m usually a purist, but what did you have in mind?”

  Grinning, I slid the cooler open and pulled out the beer. Popping the cap off, I set it in front of him. “This is what usually took up some of the space in my fridge in Florida.”

  He studied the label, then arched a brow at me. “Funky Buddha?”

  “Just try it,” I said, “You may just like it.”

  He took a tentative pull of it, then nodded. “Not bad at all,” he said, surprise tinting his voice.

  “When it comes to beers, I’d never steer you wrong. My friends and I used to tour the local breweries and wineries. People always think of beaches and Disney when it comes to Florida, but we have a lot more to offer than that.”

  “So why’d you leave?” he asked, studying me.

  I lifted a shoulder. “Life happened, and I needed a change of scenery.”

  “Major change, there,” Scout said, tipping up his bottle for another drink.

  “Yeah, but it was time. I need to look forward, not back, and I was stuck in a rut. I’d moved up the ladder as far as I could, and I don’t want to spend the rest of my life in a job that doesn’t mean much to me. I want to write a book. Ten books. Twenty books.”

  “Ambitious.” Scout took a draw on his beer. “So I gather you’re bartending at night until you finish your international best seller.”

  “I’m bartending so I can make the run-down house I actually bought into the grand lodge I thought I spent most of my savings on,” I said with a wry smile.

  “Yeah,” he said. “I kinda figured that was the case when Marnie told me she’d sold the place for just a little less than asking price. Or at least I hoped, no offense. I didn’t want some kind of fancy rich-people resort going in next to me.”

  “Not likely,” I scoffed, then motioned to the empty bar. “At this rate, it’s going to take me the rest of my life to save enough for paint.”

  “You’ll do fine, I’m sure. It’s slow now, but give it a couple hours. You’ll be wishing for peace and quiet. How do you like working here—and living here—so far?”

  I shrugged as I leaned across the counter. “It’s slow. I swear I’m in a different reality, where time almost comes to a standstill. Even getting groceries takes longer. First you have to wait for the person in line in front of you to finish chatting with the cashier, then you have to chat with her.”

  The corner of his mouth tipped up in a smile. “I suppose it’s a lot different here than what you’re used to. Things are pretty laid back, and people like to take things slow. I imagine that’s the exact opposite of what life in the big city was like.”

  I nodded, then thought back to our handful of conversations. I didn’t remember telling him exactly where I was from. “But what makes you think I’m from a big city? There are plenty of small towns in Florida.”

  His eyes glinted with mischief. “Small town. Everybody knows everything about everyone. So I happen to know you’re from Orlando.”

  “So you all just stand around, sharing gossip about all your neighbors?”

  Scout shrugged. “Some do. Especially Linda, the dispatcher. She tells everybody everything, so if you have any really juicy secrets you don’t want to be made available for public consumption, I’d make sure she doesn’t get a hold of them. But that can be hard to do, given where she works and who she works for.”

  “I can see where that would be a problem.” I checked on the two guys at the other end of the bar, but they had full glasses and were having a spirited debate about football. I pulled the chair that normally sat by the cash register over and climbed onto it. “But don’t people get mad? About being fodder for the local gossip mill?”

  Scout spun his bottle cap on the bar with his pointer finger. “Like I said, things here are pretty laid back, and that’s par for the course. And the sheriff doesn’t have a lot of cases to work. An occasional property dispute or car-trouble call, but this town doesn’t see a whole lot of action. Besides, everyone knows everyone else well enough that even if Linda didn’t share the info, Chloe and her girls down at the salon would. She’s married to one of the deputies, so she knows all, too.”

  I frowned. “So if everyone knows everything about everyone else, how come nobody knows who killed Fiona? How come all the evidence is pointing at Dee?”

  He lifted a shoulder. “Even small towns like this have the occasional mystery, and nobody wants to think somebody they know would clock somebody hard enough with a rolling pin to kill them.”

  Scout cleared his throat. “Speaking of Fiona’s ... incident, I heard the mayor and town council are really pressuring the sheriff to make an arrest. They claim people don’t feel safe here anymore, and with elections coming up later this year, they’d like to see a resolution.”

  I crossed my arms in front of my chest. “And let me guess. They don’t have any suspects except for Dee. Surely the town wouldn’t accept that Dee did it. Anyone who knows Dee knows she couldn’t have done it.”

  Scout tilted his head. “The thing is, everyone knows how mean Fiona was to Dee, and even though everybody loves Dee, they’d accept that even she could have been pushed too far and snapped. They wouldn’t necessarily blame her, but they’d want to see justice served and move on with their lives.”

  That made my blood boil. “And of course the mayor and the attorneys need a win before the election rolls around so they can parade around in their superhero capes and remind everyone how much they did to keep law and order marching on.”

  “Pretty much.”

  I crossed my arms over my chest. “Well, we’ll just see about that.”

  Chapter 19

  NINE HOUR
S LATER, I wiped the sticky remnants of miscellaneous drinks from the bar and tables, then tossed the rag into a bucket of sanitizer. Friday had been busy, just as Scout had predicted. Folks had started trickling in around seven and it had stayed busy until one, with a few hangers-on sticking it out ’til last call. Only two younger guys remained, finishing up their game of pool and their pitcher.

  When the door opened, I turned to tell whoever it was that I’d already done last call, but refrained when Scout walked in with a big smile on his face. “Fancy meeting you here.”

  I rolled my eyes. “Yeah. Go figure. You were right though—it picked up later in the evening.”

  Scout chuckled. “I figured. This is the cheapest place in town, and he runs a clean business.”

  I laughed. “Just what I always wanted—to bartend at the cheapest beer joint in the smallest town I could find.” I glanced at the two guys to see how close they were to finishing up. The pitcher was empty, but their glasses were almost full, and most of the balls were still on the table. It was going to be a few minutes, at least, until I could finish up. “Want a beer?” I asked. “I’m gonna have one while I’m waiting on them.”

  Scout nodded. “I’ll take another of those you gave me earlier.”

  “Are you telling me I’ve converted you?” I grabbed two from the cooler and grinned as I opened them and set one on a napkin in front of him. “There’s hope for you yet.”

  “Are you implying a man’s taste in beer can make him hopeless?”

  I laughed and shook my head. “Not at all, or at least not at the Bud level. That’s a good, even keel. Now if you’d have asked for something people usually hide in brown paper bags, I’d have wondered about your judgment.”

  He lifted his bottle in a salute. “You only live once. Besides, I never met a beer I didn’t like. Though the ones in brown paper bags are only acquaintances.”

  I tapped bottles with him. “Hear, hear.”

  He looked around. “Did you have a good crowd? No fights or anything?”

  “Nope, everybody behaved. A couple squabbles over the pool table, but they worked themselves out. It was nothing like the clubs I’m used to, though, but that’s not necessarily a bad thing. Does he ever get a band or anything in here?”

  Scout shook his head as he took another pull from his beer. “Not often. Too small, and he doesn’t like the idea of charging a door fee. I’m glad you had a good night, though. Maybe small-town life will be good for you—help you relax a little bit and enjoy life instead of trying to race through it.”

  “Let me guess, you’re a life coach by night?” I teased.

  He nodded. “Maybe.”

  The two guys brought their pitcher up and set it on the bar, along with the money for their tab. “Keep the change, and have a nice night,” the one with the dimples said. The one in black smiled and tilted his hat in my direction.

  “You, too,” I said, scooping the cash off the bar as they walked out the door. I followed them and twisted the lock, then closed their tab and ran the report. It had been a long night, and I was ready to go.

  “How are you settling in?” Scout asked after the door swung closed. “Any major surprises at the lodge? From what I could see, it’s gonna take some work, but most of the stuff is aesthetic.”

  I briefly considered telling him about Maisie, but couldn’t think of a way of telling him the woman who built the house was still living in it, 150 years later, without sounding like a lunatic. I figured I’d keep that under my hat until I was sure he wouldn’t think I was an escapee from the loony bin.

  “So do you usually spend your Friday nights popping in at the local watering hole right at closing time?” I asked, pulling the drawer and settling back on the stool to count it.

  Scout shook his head and smiled. “Not unless there’s something interesting going on.”

  I raised a brow. “Is that so? And what makes tonight more interesting than any other night?”

  Scout gave me a crooked smile. “Well, the bartender is a little easier on the eyes than Don, which is a refreshing change.”

  I’d been married so long that even low-level flirting was a bit outside my comfort zone—something I was going to have to get over. After all, I was a free agent and had nothing to feel guilty about. “Is that so?” I asked. “Don’s gonna be devastated if that gets back to him, plus I hear the new girl’s just some big-city flake. Nothing interesting about her at all.”

  Scout’s face became serious. “I wouldn’t say that. I’d say she’s a mysterious and beautiful breath of fresh air to this stale old town.”

  I barked out a laugh. “Are you drunk already?”

  Scout tilted his head. “Just calling it like I see it.”

  “Then I think you need glasses.” I refused to meet his eyes as I started scrubbing the bar. Again. And with maybe a bit too much zeal.

  “Did I make you uncomfortable?” I could hear the humor in his voice. He was enjoying this way too much.

  “No,” I said a little too forcefully, then sighed. “Well, maybe a little. I’m still getting used to the idea of being single again, and that’s just the tip of the iceberg. The whole concept of living alone is a new deal for me.”

  “I’ll have to keep that in mind, then.” He sounded a little less playful, which was good. The last thing I needed at this point in my life was a relationship. Especially now that I was out on my own. For the first time, well, ever. I needed to figure me out before I ever added another person to that equation.

  I gave him a smile and explained my situation a little better. I didn’t want him to think I wasn’t flattered, or that I didn’t find him attractive. “So,” I finished, ”I really need to figure who I am and what I want before I go jumping back into another one.”

  Scout nodded. “That’s fair. And to give you a serious answer to your question, I came down to make sure you made it to your car okay. Normally, I wouldn’t be concerned because not once in the history of the place has anything bad happened, but we’ve never had somebody randomly murdered either.”

  That was sweet, but the comment intrigued me. Orlando was great, but the murder rate was nothing to brag about. “Never?” I asked.

  He shook his head. “Never. That’s not to say we haven’t had any, but the handful we’ve had have mostly been by a significant other, with a few land or poker disputes being responsible for the rest of them.”

  I pulled out my phone to check the time and noticed I’d missed a text message several hours earlier. I didn’t recognize the number, but it was a local area code. Weird, since only three people besides Scout—Dee, Don, and the sheriff—even had my number, other than Marnie, of course. I scoffed to myself. Maybe she was calling to tell me she’d added too many zeros onto the asking price of the lodge. Or maybe Santa was texting to verify my new address—that was more likely.

  Sometimes it’s better to let sleeping dogs lie.

  I frowned as a cold finger of fear slid down my spine.

  “What is it?” Scout asked.

  I stuck up a finger as I called the number back. It went straight to voice mail, and I was shocked when I heard the terse command. “This is Fiona. Leave me a message.”

  I hung up and showed the message to Scout.

  He narrowed his eyes. “Who’s that from?”

  I sighed. “That text came from Fiona’s phone.”

  “So someone doesn’t want you asking questions about Fiona?”

  “Kinda looks that way.”

  Scout’s jaw tightened. “The only person that would have Fiona’s phone and send that kind of message is the killer. You need to call the sheriff.”

  He was right. This information might help to clear Dee and set the cops on the right path. It was the first solid lead—at least that I knew about—on whom the real killer was.

  I looked up the after-hours number for the sheriff’s department and punched it in. It took several rings before a groggy male voice answered. Apparently, the after-hours number went
straight to Gabe’s cell. “Sheriff. This better be good.”

  “Sheriff, this is Toni. Toni Owens from the Mercy Lodge.”

  “Toni. What can I do for you? Is everything okay at the lodge?” He said past a yawn.

  “I think so. But I’m at work, at the Dead End, and I just got a text from Fiona’s phone.” I told him what it said.

  “You’re at work? Are you alone?” He sounded much more alert.

  “No, sir. Scout’s here with me.”

  I could hear him moving around and things rustling in the background. “And you just got this text?”

  “Just a couple of minutes ago.”

  “And how do you know it’s Fiona’s phone?”

  “Because I called the number back and it went straight to her voice mail.” I heard a series of thunks as the sheriff dropped the phone, then picked it up, cursing under his breath.

  “Sorry about that,” he said. “Stay put and I’ll be right there. And ask Scout to stay with you.”

  He disconnected the line.

  “He’s on his way here,” I said, then locked the doors. Scout had been sitting right here talking to me, so unless he was working for somebody, he was in the clear. I was glad he’d come.

  Chapter 20

  IT TOOK THE SHERIFF about twenty minutes to get there, and while we waited, I counted the money and finished up my closing duties. His response time was quite a bit slower than when I’d called him to the café, but in all fairness, I had just gotten him out of bed. He looked a little rumpled, but other than that, he looked alert, almost like he hadn’t just been dragged from a sound slumber.

  “Can I see your phone?” the sheriff asked as he extended his hand.

  I unlocked the screen and handed it to him. He scrolled through and found the message. After reading it, he did the same thing I’d done—called the number that had sent it.

  After a couple moments, he nodded, disconnected the line, and handed it back. “So why would someone send you this? You’ve obviously ruffled some feathers, so what have you been doing?”