Thyme to Kill

by Tegan Maher

  “Is this ... about how they usually are?” It was a shame because the flavors were there. I loved to cook main dishes, but I wasn’t much into baking. I made a decent brownie, and my cupcakes were always a hit, though cupcakes are almost always a sure bet.

  “Yeah, give or take,” he said, a wry smile on his lips. “They sell a lot of coffee.”

  I snorted. That was the nicest way he could have put it. “I bet they do. Maybe it’s a marketing strategy. I know it worked for me.”

  I thought about Dee. If this was her competition, she was ahead right from the start. Assuming we could keep her out of prison, that is. The thought made me restless, and I looked at the clock on my phone. We’d only been there for ten minutes.

  “Hey, Scout,” an older guy wearing a blue uniform shirt and work pants said as he passed our table.

  “Hey, Harold,” Scout replied. “How’s business?”

  “Oh, you know. Same ole, same ole. Got a bad shipment of to-go lids yesterday and had to send them all back. None of the drink holes were punched out. Now everybody who sells cold drinks has to wait on their deliveries.”

  “Wait,” I said. “Harold, as in the guy who delivered stuff to Fiona?”

  “Yeah,” he said, eyeing me with confusion. “I deliver to her, along with half the other businesses in town. And you are?”

  “Toni Owens,” I replied, sticking out my hand. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to come across as rude. I’m friends with Dee and came in right after she found the body.”

  “Oh,” he said, sympathy etching his face. “That must have been awful. Dee’s a good girl. I hated to hear she’s the one who found her.”

  “Yeah, she is. Too bad she’s in jail as we speak.”

  “What do you mean, she’s in jail?” he said, a tinge of outrage in his voice. “She didn’t do nothin’ wrong.”

  I was a little surprised he hadn’t already heard. With his job, he had to be one of the first ones to catch wind of the daily gossip. “The sheriff arrested her last night,” I said, leaving out the details. If he didn’t know, I wasn’t going to be the one to spread it.

  He shook his head. “Well no matter what evidence they found against her, I’m sure they’ll let her go. Everybody knows Dee don’t have a mean bone in her body, and no amount of cash can change that.”

  “So did you talk to Fiona the morning she died?” I asked.

  He shook his head. “No, I didn’t deliver to her that morning.”

  I was pretty sure I’d just caught him in a flat-out lie, but decided not to call him on it. After all, it wouldn’t do to tip him off that he’d just landed on my radar.

  Once he left our table, Scout turned to me. “What are you thinking? You have that look.”

  “What look?” I asked, trying to pull on my poker face.

  “The look every person on the planet gets when they’re up to something,” he replied, narrowing his eyes at me.

  I cast a glance to make sure Harold was far enough away, then leaned in. “Dee said he made a delivery that morning.”

  He furrowed his brow. “Why would he lie about something like that?”

  “Excellent question. I think we need to check on that. Surely he left a receipt or an invoice.”

  Scout looked dubious. “I’m sure he did, but I just don’t see it. I’ve known Harold most of my life, and he’s the most passive person I know.”

  “And I’m sure Dee didn’t do it,” I said. “But I don’t know anything about Harold other than he just lied to me, so right now, he’s a better suspect as far as I’m concerned. For that matter, what about Marjorie? She and Fiona didn’t get along, either.”

  He thought for a second. “Nah, he said. “It would take a pretty solid blow to kill somebody with a rolling pin, and that one was heavy. I don’t think she’s got the strength it would take.”

  I snorted. “She didn’t have any problem carrying a couple huge jugs of syrup.”

  “I don’t see it,“ he said, popping the last bite of roll in his mouth.

  “Oh, but you can see Dee doing it?”

  Sighing, he said, “No, I can’t. But we’re gonna need more than just speculation if we’re going to get her off the hook.”

  “Then let’s dig deeper,” I replied. “We can start with Harold.”

  Chapter 23

  SCOUT PULLED UP IN front of the jail and hopped out of his truck. I had to wait for him to walk around and let me out because the interior door handle on my side was missing.

  He opened the door and offered me a sheepish grin. “I keep meaning to fix that.”

  “I imagine it helps keep your dates from escaping,” I said with a wink.

  He chuckled. “Yeah. It leaves it open for me to tell all the corny jokes I want without worrying they’ll decide it’s worth the risk to jump.”

  We walked side by side to the main doors, where Scout stepped ahead and opened the first door for me.

  I smiled. “Thanks.”

  We went through another set of double doors, then stopped at the counter situated in the center of the lobby. I noticed the deputy, Howie, was standing behind it.

  I cleared my throat. “Hi. I’m here to see Dee.”

  Howie gave me a confused frown and then shook his head. “You can’t.”

  “Oh,” I said, glancing and the smooth wood counter. “Is she still waiting for her bail hearing?”

  Howie shook his head. “No.” He glanced at his watch. “She was released on bail about thirty minutes ago.”

  I looked at Scout. “Do you know who paid it?” I asked Howie.

  Howie nodded. “Marjorie.”

  “Little-old-lady-next-door Marjorie?” I asked, confused. From the conversation Dee and I’d had about her, I’d gotten the impression she struggled just to make ends meet. “How much was it?”

  “Judge set it at half a mil,” Howie said, hooking his thumbs through his belt loops.

  So that meant Marjorie had either gone to a bondsman—which would have still cost her five grand—or she had more money in the bank than her old Buick implied.

  “Okay, Howie, thanks.” I turned toward the door, my mind whirring. Why on Earth would she have posted bail to begin with?

  He gave a small head nod. “Anytime, Toni. Elbert,” he said with a slight head tilt to Scout as he left us and walked into an adjoining room. Scout glowered at him, and Howie smirked a little.

  I didn’t particularly care for the tone he used, so I kept my mouth shut until we made it outside.

  “Not a word,” Scout said, holding up a finger and scowling once we were back in the truck.

  “But ... Elbert?”

  He glared toward the front of the building. “Yeah, but I haven’t used it since I was young. Nobody calls me that.”

  I smirked. “Sore spot then?”

  He held the door open, clenching his jaw a little. “We should probably go check on Dee.”

  “Okay, Elbert.” I climbed in, hoping like crazy he never found out my middle name was Sunflower. Yeah. Second-generation hippie parents, and I’m sure I’d get it back in equal measure from Scout if that stoner cat ever got out of the bag.

  He closed my door then went around and climbed in his side, heaving a resigned sigh once he was in. “Look, I really hate that name. I had a great uncle on my dad’s side named Elbert, and my parents, lacking any sort of creativity or taste, decided it was a fine name and gave it to me.”

  I tried to stifle a smile as I nodded and stuck up my right hand, pointer and middle fingers forming a V. “I promise never to utter it again. Scout’s honor.”

  He rolled his eyes and opened his door. “Just buckle your seatbelt.”

  I fidgeted as Scout drove. It seemed like it took way longer to get back to the lodge than it had to get from the lodge to the jail.

  “Why do you think Marjorie bailed her out?” The woman was giving me whiplash.

  “I don’t know,” he said slowly. “I’ve been thinking about that too. It could just be she know
s Dee didn’t do it but doesn’t have the money to post her own bail.”

  “That seems awful generous.” I’d never known anybody outside of family to shell over that kind of cash just because they had faith, and she didn’t strike me as that type, either.

  “It’s hard to tell,” he said. “I know she really likes Dee. Now that Dee owns the café, Marjorie benefits if she’s not in jail. Whether she’ll admit it or not, a lot of her business comes from people leaving Fiona’s and stopping at her place.”

  “Yeah,” I said. “I guess, but it’s still fishy to me.”

  When Scout turned down my drive, I craned my neck until I could see the cottage, lit up like a Christmas tree. Marjorie’s old Buick was parked in front, and the two women were visible through the kitchen window, sitting at the table sipping coffee.

  Once Scout stopped, I reached out and grabbed the exterior door handle, opening my door. I didn’t feel like waiting for him to turn off the truck and walk around to let me out. I jumped out of the truck and ran to the front door, flinging it open and dashing inside.

  “Dee,” I called.

  “In here!” she answered.

  “I tried to gauge the mood before I said anything, but Dee jumped up and gave me a hug.

  “Boy do I have stories for you,” she said, her eyes wide. “Jailhouse stories.”

  I smiled. She didn’t look too traumatized, so I assumed there were no shivs or errant bars of soap taking center stage in any of them.

  When she released me, I looked at Marjorie. “Thank you. We went down to bail her out, but you’d beaten us to it.”

  Marjorie waved her hand dismissively. “We all know that Dee didn’t do it. ”

  Dee smiled. “It wouldn’t have done you any good anyway. The judge wasn’t going to grant me bail, but Marjorie stepped up and said she’d take personal responsibility for me.” She gave the little old woman a heartwarming grin, and her chin trembled a little. “She put up her shop to get me out.”

  Marjorie smiled. “I been servin’ that man ice cream since he was just a grasshopper,” she said, “and he still comes in a couple times a month, when he’s in town. Never underestimate the power of a good ole hot fudge sundae.”

  I cocked my head. “I guess so.”

  Since she was sitting right in front of me, it would be an excellent time to interrogate her, but for the life of me, I couldn’t think of a single question that might trip her up. Lacking anything better, I went straight for the obvious question. “Not that I don’t think it’s incredibly sweet, but why did you decide to bail Dee out?”

  She tilted her head and looked at me. I tried to read her expression, but either she really wasn’t hiding anything, or she had a great poker face. “Why, because it was the neighborly thing to do, of course.”

  I nodded. The neighborly thing. I’d never had a neighbor in my life that would pick me up from jail, let alone put up their business to get me out. But short of calling bull, I’d have to accept her answer. For now.

  “See? Welcome to small-town living,” Scout said nudging me with his elbow.

  Chapter 24

  I HAD TO WORK THE EARLY shift, and the place was dead. That meant I had nothing but my own thoughts to keep me company, and my mind wouldn’t stay still. I had to figure out how to get Dee out of the mess she was in because it seemed if I didn’t, nobody would. Unfortunately, the suspect list was short.

  First, there was Harold, the fibbing delivery guy. Something wasn’t adding up there. I needed to have Dee find that receipt. As a matter of fact, I wouldn’t mind taking a look at the whole place, and Fiona’s house, too. We should have done that right off the bat, but I hadn’t wanted to interfere with the sheriff, and Dee wasn’t ready to face it yet. Not that I could blame her, but now it seemed we had no choice.

  Second, I didn’t care what anybody said—it was weird that Marjorie posted her bail. Maybe it would have made more sense if she was well-off, but she put up her only means of survival. If something happened and Dee ditched town, she’d have no livelihood.

  After bouncing those two around for a while, my brain started doing an inventory of anybody else who may have done it. The problem there was that when I threw the net wider, it snagged Dee. She was most certainly the next in line, and if I saw that, no doubt everybody else did too. For that matter, it seemed I was the only one who wasn’t putting her at the top of the list.

  Frustrated, I tossed the rag in a bucket when Scout walked in, the sunlight silhouetting him for a moment.

  “Good news!” he said, drawing me from my thoughts. “The electrician just left your place.”

  The night before, he’d mentioned he had a guy coming from the next town over to check out the wiring in his barn, and asked if I wanted me to have him take a look at the lodge and cottage while he was in the neighborhood, so to speak. As old as the places were, it would be silly to proceed with any sort of renovation before I had that checked, so as much as I couldn’t afford it, I couldn’t afford not to do it, either.

  “Nice,” I said, sliding a beer in front of him. “What’s the verdict?”

  “He says both places look good. The wiring in the cottage looks fairly new. The wiring in the lodge is old, but he says it’s in good shape, and he doesn’t see any reason to replace it unless you’re doing major renovations in a room that involves tearing down a wall.”

  I shook my head, remembering my promise to Maisie. In the interest of maintaining a peaceful haunting, there wouldn’t be any walls being knocked down any time soon. “Nope, no major overhauls of that sort in the works.”

  “Then you’re good. He said it would even hold up to inspection if you decided to open it up as a B&B later. I have the paperwork in the truck, and he said he’d send you the bill. Since I scheduled him, I went ahead and covered his trip fee.”

  Finally, a little bit of sunshine. “Thanks! I don’t mind splitting the trip fee with you, though.”

  He waved me off. “I’d already scheduled him, so I’d have had to pay it anyway. Put it toward paint or something.”

  We chatted for a few more minutes while he finished his beer, then he left to go take care of some stuff on his ranch. After he was gone, a few people trickled in and out, but it was slow for the most part. I was due to leave at seven, but when Don came in at five, he told me I could leave if I wanted to. I decided to take the cut since I’d had an editing job come in that morning.

  I arrived home to find a strange car parked in front of the lodge and the lights still on in the kitchen and the living room. Dee must have heard me pulling in because she stepped out and stood on the stoop, waiting for me. I pulled in and got out. “Whose car is that?” I asked, nodding my head toward the beat up old black Mercury.

  “You’re never gonna believe it.” She glanced at the old car and trained her gaze back on me. “There’s a guy here wanting to know if we rent out rooms. He’s working here for a few weeks and wants to stay somewhere besides in a motel.” She shrugged. “I told him the lodge was under renovation, but he still wants to talk to you.”

  “We’re nowhere near ready for that, and we also have the Maisie situation,” I said, lowering my voice.

  “Oh, I know,” she said. “But I was talking to her earlier, and just out of the blue, she suggested it may be a good way to use the place. Said it would do her heart good to see families using it sort of the way it was intended since both of us are single.”

  She reached toward me and plunked something into my hand. I was surprised to see it was money. “He gave me this right as you pulled up. Incentive, I think.”

  I frowned as I took the cash and counted. Two hundred fifty dollars.

  “So how long is he talking about staying, and when?” I asked, my gaze shooting back to her. “And how much is this supposed to cover?”

  Dee shrugged. “I think he’s here for a job with some road construction crew a couple towns over, but they’re moving this direction next month.” She motioned toward the cash. “He said that w
as a deposit until we gave him a set amount. I have no idea what a room would go for.”

  I wasn’t sure about this. I still hadn’t decided what to do with the place yet, and I didn’t have any permits. Plus, the place was a mess. On the other hand, the extra cash would come in handy, and if he wasn’t booking until the end of next month, we could probably have all that in place, and have the lodge ready to go, or at least have it ready to go enough for one guest.

  I let out a breath and smiled, coming to a decision. “Let’s talk to our potential first guest, then, shall we?”

  I held out my elbow and she hooked her hand through it. “We shall.”

  A tall, gangly man about our age was sitting on the edge of the sofa, but stood when we came back in. I stuck my hand out. “Toni Owens.”

  “Jason Cade, ma’am,” he replied, shaking my hand. “I sure hope you don’t mind me stopping in. I saw the sign for the place when I was driving through yesterday, but when I tried to look it up online, I couldn’t find it. I figured it couldn’t hurt to stop, just in case.”

  “Dee says you’re talking about staying starting next month?”

  “Yes, ma’am,” he said, smiling. “And I sure am tired of motels and fast food. My company pays my lodging, or at least they give me a living stipend. Even if what you’re charging is a little over what it allows, I’d consider it worth the money if I didn’t have to sleep under a comforter that was last washed when Clinton was president.”

  I couldn’t argue with that logic. I despised motels. Even the comforters in nice hotels creeped me out a little. My friend’s sister had worked in housekeeping in a nicer chain hotel—I knew how that stuff worked.

  Did Dee explain to you that we’re in the middle of renovating it? We haven’t gotten much done yet, so it may be a little bare-bones.”

  “That’s fine with me,” he said, holding up his hands. “Like I said, as long as it’s clean and has a place where I can get something to eat or even cook for myself, I’d love to stay there.”

  “Did she tell you it’s haunted?” I figured I’d better put that out there just in case Maisie decided to put in an appearance, even accidentally.