“Roseanne, you don’t get it,” Anita said. “The girl doesn’t give a rip about how much space we’ve got for our rumps. She’s still thinking about that phone call, aren’t you, Mary?”
Not able to share my real thoughts, I merely nodded.
The trucker unlocked her cab doors and hopped in. “Stop worrying. There’s no need for you to drive separately. I’ll get you back on time.” She shoved the key in the ignition and then allowed the truck to idle for a bit before taking off.
After making sure Anita had enough elbow space, I settled back in the mid-section of the truck’s cushy seat, looking forward to the view of St. Michael from almost 14 feet off the ground for the next five minutes, knowing this would probably be the only time I’d have the opportunity.
When I caught sight of Tioni’s Pizza Parlor sign, I couldn’t believe I’d never been there before this year. This was my third visit since the interview with Sharon Sylvester, but I have a hunch today’s trip is going to be the most memorable.
Ginny, who served me the first time I stopped by, wasn’t working the day Anita and I came in, but I was afraid today might be different. If she’s there, hopefully she has enough sense not to mention our conversation about Butch otherwise my cover will be blown. Of course, several days ago I worried about Butch ruining things too when he showed up at the plant. Luckily, it worked out just fine.
I thought about my elderly neighbor for a second. If Margaret was here, she’d advise me to focus on what I can handle and forget the rest. That’s probably for the best. You can’t change the course of events, but you can always work around them.
GINNY SAT PERCHED ON one of the stools behind the counter at Tioni’s eager to greet customers. She flashed us a broad smile. Then she reverted back to chewing her gum and patiently waited for us to stamp our snow-packed shoes on the mat by the entrance. The second we finished the task, she jumped up and rested her elbows on the counter. “Hi, ladies, welcome to Tioni’s Pizza Parlor. How can I help y’all?”
Roseanne acted as spokesperson. “We haven’t a clue what we want yet. Can you give us a sec to study the menu?”
Ginny nodded. “Sure. Just let me know when you’re ready.” She went back to her stool and waited.
“Will do,” Roseanne said, as she looked around the crowded room “Wow. I sue didn’t expect it to be this busy. We’d better get crack’n if Mary’s going to squeeze that phone call in.”
“I know what I want,” I said, moving to the counter, “How about you two?”
Anita slipped her mittens off and placed her hands on her hips. “I was kinda hoping someone would want to share a pizza.”
“Don’t look at me,” Roseanne said, “I’ve got a girlish figure to maintain. I’m sticking to one slice of pepperoni.”
Anita faced me and batted her thick eyelashes. My aunt does the same thing when she wants to butter someone up. Of course I gave in. “Okay, I’ll go in with you. How about getting a large sausage with mushrooms?”
“Mmmm. Sounds good, but do you mind adding green peppers,” Anita said, as she stepped off to the side. “Oh, and a Coke.”
Once Roseanne and I got the orders out of the way, we filled our beverage cups and slid into one of the two remaining booths.
So far so good—Ginny, didn’t acknowledge knowing me when I gave her my order. Of course, I had worn a nice outfit and dress coat when I showed up that first time, giving her the impression I was Butch’s lawyer. With the clothes I had on today and my short hair shooting up in every direction, the young worker probably took me for a slob. Wouldn’t she be shocked to know what I’ve actually been up to.
I didn’t get much out of Roseanne regarding Chip at my morning break, so I planned to approach things from a different angle. As tactfully as possible, I said, “Roseanne, you’ve gotten to know many of the plant employees. Who do you think had the most to gain from Don and Paul’s deaths?”
She wrapped her fingers around her straw and poked it up and down in the cup of pop she purchased. “Geez, I don’t know. It could be almost anyone.”
Anita offered a suggestion, “How about Chip? That’s the way I’m leaning.”
Not expecting Chip’s name to be brought up quite so soon, my eyes and ears paid close attention to the trucker’s response.
Roseanne cleared her throat. Her hazel eyes widened like an owls. The fair skin she was born with gained a bit of color. “I suppose it could’ve been him. There was no love lost between him and Don.”
I tried to add a little confusion to the discussion to see if I could succeed in riling Roseanne more. “When we chatted this morning, did I hear you say you were in town the Saturday Chip got hurt?”
“I don’t believe so,” she calmly replied.
Shoot. The woman’s a tough nut to crack. Obviously she’s had a ton of practice skirting issues.
Before I could proceed with another inquiry, Ginny delivered our orders. As she set the large pizza in front of me, I noticed a glimmer of recognition skim across her face. Would she give me away? She opened her mouth to say something directly to me, but I shut her down with a heavily stressed, “Thank you,” hoping she got the message.
She did. The only word that passed her lips was, “Enjoy,” and then she went back to the counter.
I slipped a slice of pizza on my plate to let it cool a bit and then I threw out the question I’d been holding on to. “Is it possible someone at the plant might have been having affairs with Don, Paul, and maybe even Chip?”
Roseanne almost choked on her straw. “Where would you come up with such a foolish notion? Has someone at the plant been spinning yarns?”
“Nope. It’s just something I’ve been pondering on my own.”
“Roseanne, honey,” Anita said, lifting a piece of pizza to her mouth, “As much as you want to hide it, we all know you had the hots for Don and Paul, why not just admit it and we can figure out if someone else might have felt the same.”
Roseanne bowed her head and began tapping her fingers on the table. “Oh, my, God. Isn’t anything kept private around that darn plant? Sure Don and I had a thing going after his wife died, but it didn’t last long.”
Anita bit into her pizza. “What about Paul?”
“Paul?” Roseanne cackled. “I don’t sleep with married men, Anita. I just mess with their heads. You know how flirtatious I can be.”
I pushed the envelope. “Where does Chip fit into the picture?”
“What kind of question is that?” Roseanne asked, accidentally knocking her empty plate to the floor, causing all eyes to look our way. “Ladies, I didn’t invite you to lunch so you could interrogate me. That’s the job of the police. And so far they haven’t requested that I come to their station. So if you don’t mind, let’s drop the twenty questions. Okay?”
“Fair enough,” Anita said, grabbing another slice of pizza. “It’s almost time to get back anyway.”
It’s fine with me if she wants to throw in the towel, but I’m not giving up that easily. I’m going to find out what’s going on one way or another. Paul was murdered on the sixth of December. Roseanne delivered a truckload of cucumbers on the seventh, a day earlier than expected, which means she could’ve killed Paul. The woman knows her way around the plant, seamlessly evades questions regarding Chip, and is keeping a secret under wraps.
~54~
The minute Roseanne dropped us off at the door designated for Hickleman’s employees, I rushed down the corridor to the locker room and rid myself of the ski jacket. Once that task was done, I grabbed my lab coat and cell phone.
Not feeling the need to hurry like me, Anita arrived in the room shortly afterwards and watched as I finished fastening my lab coat. “Mary, I hope you don’t believe that hogwash I spit out at Tioni’s. You know about being fine where things were left with Roseanne. I’m not sure she’s so innocent after all.”
“I don’t have got time to discuss her or anyone else right now.” I flashed the cell phone in front of Anita, hoping
it would remind her of the call I needed to make. Then I charged out the door and down the hall a ways to what I considered a safe spot to call Sgt. Murchinak, not realizing an air vent overhead carried my voice somewhere in the building it shouldn’t.
“Hi, this is Mary Malone. Sgt. Murchinak is expecting a call from me.”
“Just a minute please.”
“Mary, good timing. I have to be at the courthouse in fifteen minutes. When your aunt stopped by this morning, she mentioned you wanted to talk about the death of the two men at the pickle plant. Sorry, but I’m afraid I don’t know much about the cases. The Wright County Sheriff’s Office is handling those.”
Amazing. Aunt Zoe actually got something right. “I realize that Sgt.” Before I went on, I glanced down the hall in both directions. The coast was still clear. “I have an item that could possibly crack the cases wide open. Of course, it’s going to require lab work which I know your team is equipped to do.”
Murchinak’s voice became heavy. “What exactly are we talking about here?”
“Cucumbers. Both dead men had cucumbers stuffed in their throats.”
“That I actually did know about,” he shared.
“Good. I want to drop off a cucumber at your station tonight on my way home. I got my hands on one from a fresh batch delivered today.”
He released a sigh. “What do you expect me to do with it, eat it?”
Matt always said the guy had a good sense of humor. I suppose you have to in his line of work when facing such harsh realities day after day. “No, Sgt., I was hoping you’d have it analyzed and see if it comes from the same region as the one’s found in the throats of the deceased.”
“Ah, I see where you’re going. If we find out the cucumber is from the same area as the others, you can narrow down your list of suspects. By the way, how long is your list?”
“It’s growing shorter by the minute.”
“Oh? In that case swing by tonight and I’ll see what we can do for you.”
“Thanks. I appreciate it.” I checked the time on the phone as I clicked it off. With only a minute to spare before I was expected back in the distribution department, I couldn’t possibly run to the locker room to stash the phone and clock-in too. Those areas were too far apart. Breaking company policy in regards to carrying around cell phones during work time wasn’t high on my agenda, but with no other option left, l shoved it in a pocket of my lab coat and went to take care of the time card.
“MARY, DID YOU GET AHOLD of your mother?” Anita asked as I rejoined her in the distribution department.
“Yup.”
“How’s she doing?”
I flashed a smile her way. “Better. She thinks it’s probably because the meds the doctor prescribed for her have finally kicked in.”
I moved over to the desk, which held information of all sorts for this department, and picked up the clipboard holding the shipping info and examined it. Obviously, no one had felt the urge to complete the task while we were at lunch: the company I’d left off with was still on top of the others. I guess I should’ve expected that. At least I had an inkling of what I’d be doing this afternoon.
I waited for Anita to confirm what I’d suspected before returning to this morning’s task. She didn’t comply. Instead she babbled on about my mother’s health condition. “What’s wrong with your mom? Is she down with the flu or pneumonia? I hope it’s not pneumonia. That’s a tough one for the elderly to get over. I remember when my granny got it. She was so doped up she acted like she’d hit the moonshine too hard.”
I may not have learned everything about the pickling industry yet, but I’d gleaned enough about Anita. If she wanted certain information, she’d persist until she got it. So I tossed her a bone lacking any substance. “She doesn’t have pneumonia. Her ulcers have flared up again.”
Anita’s mouth formed a perfect circle. “Ooo. That’s pretty painful. Ulcers aren’t something I’d want to suffer with especially in December. Uh-uh. No siree. Not with all the free goodies friends and family load me down with.”
Now she put her hands behind her back and clasped them. “Well, girl, I suppose we’d better stop standing around before someone complains we’re not doing our share of the workload.” She pointed to the clipboard I was holding. “But you won’t need that yet. I’ve got something else to show you first. Follow me.”
“Where are we going?”
“You’ll see.”
After we walked about twenty-five feet from where we were standing, Anita stopped near a huge piece of equipment I hadn’t been shown before. Sitting with the machinery were several layers of finished pickle products stacked on top of each other with only a pallet in between to separate the layers.
“You’re about to see the pallet wrapper machine in action,” Anita said. “I wanted to show it to you this morning before we started verifying shipment dates, but there wasn’t anything ready to be wrapped yet.”
Without thinking of my safety, I stepped away from Anita the second the machine came on and inched nearer to it.
“Girl, don’t get too close,” Anita lightheartedly warned, “otherwise you’re gonna get sealed with the product and be shipped out of here. We can’t have that. Uh-uh. Think of how upset our customers would be when they found an item not pickled in their delivery.”
Even though Anita was joking, I soon realized how mesmerizing a pallet wrapper machine presentation could be and took a few steps back. The stretch wrap didn’t miss a beat. It continued to twirl and twirl around the stacked product in an upward motion and wouldn’t stop until it completed the mission. I’ve used plenty of three-inch wide tape to wrap packages to be mailed, but the size of this wrap was unbelievable. Only comic book crime fighters like Superman or the Hulk could manage to use it. And when they did they’d have their have their foes wrapped up in a mega-second.
After watching the merry-go-round show for a couple minutes, I had to break the spell. I didn’t want to puke on my tennis shoes.
“Seen enough?” Anita asked. When I didn’t reply, she drew closer to me. “Good grief, girl. You look like you’ve been scared silly.” She took ahold of my arm. “I’d better get you out of here before someone calls a medic.”
“Good idea,” I said as I quickly covered my mouth.
~55~
My stomach calmed down somewhat once Anita removed me from the area causing the nausea. I just didn’t know where she planned to take me. As far as I knew there wasn’t a room designated for First Aid, so that left the bathroom unless she was going to escort me up to HR. Although, I couldn’t picture Anita taking on steps while assisting a person of my weight up them.
Anita halted the second she came upon a desk in Distribution, the one where I’d left the clipboard. “Here,” she said, “lean up against the front of the desk while I get one of those folding chairs stacked by the doorway.” After retrieving the chair, she placed it next to where I was standing and ordered me to sit and lean over.
I didn’t argue. The stomach was still scrambled. I simply plopped down and hung my head like a hound dog.
The woman in charge of me slowly lowered her body to my level. “I’m going to go get you some water. Are you okay with that?”
I nodded briefly.
She patted my back. “Good. I’ll be right back.”
Even though I sat in a chair near the flow of foot traffic, no one questioned my behavior the whole time Anita was gone. That was fine with me. I would’ve been too embarrassed to explain.
Anita must’ve run all the way to the lunchroom and back. She returned huffing and puffing. As soon as her breathing flowed more evenly, she set the bottle of water she’d retrieved for me on the desk and unscrewed its cap. “There you go, girl. Drink as much of that water as you can. I can’t have you collapsing on the job. We’ve got to finish what we started this morning.”
“I’ll be fine,” I said after downing half a bottle of water. “I just needed to get away from that machine. I didn’t real
ize how much it was affecting me.”
She flapped her hand. “Honey, believe me I understand. When I was pregnant with my kids, everything bothered my stomach, including the Ferris wheel at Como Zoo.”
I set my bottle of water on the desk. “But... but I’m not pregnant, Anita.”
She stared at my mid-section. “Are you sure?”
“Positive.” I stood up.
“Well, okay then,” she said, swooping up the clipboard I’d used earlier. “Let’s get back at it.”
WHEN WE FINISHED WORK for the day, Anita dragged up Roseanne again and her possible connection in the deaths of Don Hickleman and Paul Mason. Perhaps it was time to share with her about the note I found in Paul’s pocket. I’d been keeping that bottled up long enough. Besides, there’s always the possibility Anita may have been privy to something I wasn’t.
Like before, when we ran into Butch after work, I suggested we talk away from the building, meaning in my car or hers. “But I can’t chat too long,” I said. “I have to be at a meeting by five.”
“That’s fine,” Anita replied as she knotted her wool neck scarf and slipped on mittens. “I’ve gotta make a few stops on the way home myself. Christmas will be here before you know it.” Looking like she just arrived from the Arctic Circle, she left her locker behind and made her way to the doorway to wait for me.
“Yup,” I concurred, having struggled for the last five minutes to get my jacket zipper past my stomach. Somehow I’d outgrown my ski jacket since lunch. “According to my math, there’s only twelve days left before Santa comes down the chimney and all the good boys and girls gather around their stockings to find out what the old man left.” Determined to get the zipper up, I played with it yet again.
Death of the Pickle King Page 25