Traveling Town Cozy Mystery Box Set

by Ami Diane

  Wink shivered. “That was a rough year. We’d been stuck in a rain forest for several weeks. The grain in the silos went bad, and the livestock had little to eat. Not to mention, several family gardens were flooded.”

  Now, Ella understood the need for all of the indoor, privately owned greenhouses throughout the community. “So, the council controls everything to ensure there are no more food shortages?” She wanted to be sure she understood correctly.

  No wonder Gladys seemed annoyed. Sure, it had been necessary back then, but the woman was capable and could probably do a far better job without their involvement.

  The horticulturist’s eyes fell to the two different lists in her hands, scanning, and the creases in her face deepened. “That’s strange. Everything he requested and got denied or shorted, it’s all crop I have. In fact, some I have a surplus in.”

  Ella and Wink exchanged a glance.

  “You sure?” Wink said.

  Gladys tucked her bifocals on top of her head, and they got lost in a mass of gray curls. “Positive.”

  Ella had a sinking feeling she knew the answer, but she had to ask anyway. “Who on the council oversees the forms?”

  “Patience Chilton.”

  Chapter 11

  BACK OUTSIDE OF the greenhouse, the cold mist caressed Ella’s skin. She waited until she and Wink were far enough from the plexiglass structure to voice her concerns. “Isn’t that a conflict of interest somehow?” The car door let out a soft groan, and she decidedly ignored the way the vehicle dipped when she sat down. “It feels like a conflict of interest somehow.”

  “Which part?” Chester leaped from Wink’s shoulder and scrabbled up the dashboard, tail twitching in his space costume as he stared out the windshield of the unmoving car like a furry Buck Rogers.

  “Both. All of it. But let’s start with Patience controlling the flow of food or rations or whatever you want to call it and her running for town mayor.”

  “There’s nothing that says a council person can’t run for mayor.” Wink turned the keys, and the engine hummed to life.

  “I know. It’s just…” Ella searched for the right word. “It seems too coincidental. Why, if she’s managed the produce requests all these years, why suddenly change it? I’m assuming it’s only Stewart who got the shaft. Do you think this is some ploy to manipulate you to withdraw from the race?”

  “It’s a possibility.”

  They lapsed into silence, each lost in their own thoughts.

  Was that all it was, Patience being petty? Or was there some deeper connection?

  Ella attempted to mentally connect the requisition forms to Charles’s death, but every line she drew was tenuous, like a frail spider web, and full of supposition.

  Watching the gloomy landscape drift past her window, she let out a sigh that fogged up the glass. She was fabricating connections where there were none. The simple fact was, Patience was a bully, and bullies were a constant throughout human history.

  Despite this, she pulled her phone out of her pocket and opened up the memo app. She’d resisted starting a suspect list thus far because there’d been such little evidence.

  Her thumb swiping across the screen, she put the mayoral candidate down first. Next, she listed pertinent details of the murder, including timeline, Flo’s weapon, and the hidden speakeasy-turned-bunker.

  Her thumb hovered in hesitation, then she began a list of those with prior knowledge of the speakeasy. She’d have to ask Flo for as many names as her Swiss cheese memory could recall.

  Perhaps, between that list and those in attendance at the party, Ella could come up with more suspects. It was going to be a long arduous process, seeing as how the latter list would have around a hundred names, but it was a starting point. Unless the killer had been hiding behind the false wall before the party.

  Ella stuffed her phone into her pocket and closed her eyes as they reached the town proper. “So, how do we find out what Patience is up to? Wait for her to bribe or threaten you with Stew’s inventory?” She opened her eyes and glanced sideways at her boss.

  Wink’s pensive expression morphed, her eyes glinting.

  “Oh, no.” Ella groaned. “I know that face. That’s the face of glee you make before you go hang gliding, you adrenaline junkie you.”

  A smile broke through, and Wink wriggled her eyebrows. “I think we need another look at the forms both Stew and Gladys submitted.”

  “Okay…” Ella said, drawing out the word and waiting for the other shoe to drop.

  “They’d be in the Community Services Office.”

  “There’s a Community Services Office? Where is it?”

  “Next door to the general store.”

  “Huh, I guess I need to be more observant. Getting a peek at that paperwork isn’t a bad idea, but I don’t think we can just walk in and request to see the forms, can we?”

  “No. Even if we went in when Patience wasn’t in the building, the secretary would still be there, and she takes her job seriously. She’s a good person, though.”

  “Aside from the fact that she works with Patience.”

  “Well, a job’s a job. Can’t fault her for it.”

  “Touché.”

  They’d arrived at the diner, and Wink shut off the car.

  “You want to break in, don’t you?” Ella asked as she unbuckled and twisted to face her boss. “Yeah, you want to break in.”

  “Can you think of a better idea?”

  “Nope. I’m not opposed to it, although, I know I should be, which has me more worried than the actual breaking and entering part itself.” She paused to catch a breath. “Point is, sneaking around hasn’t worked out so well for us in the past. Maybe this time we can lay down some ground rules for geriatric Annie Oakley.” She jerked her head in the direction of the inn. “Also, a plan would be nice. A good, solid plan, you know, something to throw out the window when it all goes horribly awry.”

  The last two hours of Ella’s shift at the diner flew by. At home, she changed out of her clothes and collapsed onto her bed, dreading her conversation with Flo. Not only would she have to rein in the woman’s enthusiasm over their impending mission, but she’d also have to inform her of the agreed upon rule that any weapon had to be approved by both Ella and Wink.

  Furthermore, she was going to try to convince her to tell Chapman about the secret room. It was important information related to the murder, and he needed to know.

  Reluctantly, Ella rolled off her bed before she could chicken out. The floorboards creaked as she dragged her feet out into the hallway then hesitated in front of the door kitty-corner to her own.

  After drumming on the wood with her knuckles, she heard a scramble from inside the room. A moment later, a lined face peered out, Flo’s Coke-bottle glasses giving her the impression of a bug.

  “Oh, it’s you.” Flo disappeared but left the door cracked. An invitation.

  “Nice to see you too.” Ella stepped in and stopped short.

  Wires and disassembled weapons covered the surface of the woman’s desk and part of her bed. Wound around the Flo’s head was tin foil—at least a roll’s worth.

  Ella took all of this in with one sweeping gaze, shoved aside a small, satellite-looking dish, and sat on a corner of the bed. “Have you ever tried quilting? Or maybe painting?”

  “Why?”

  “No reason.” Ella cleared her throat. “We three stooges have another mission.”

  Flo dropped a spindly-looking part and straightened, all ears.

  After taking in a deep breath, Ella gave a short summation of Stewart’s shipping problems along with her and Wink’s conversation with Mrs. Faraday.

  “So, you lot wanna break into the Community Services Office? That the sum of it?”

  Another deep breath. “Yes.”

  “Well, well…” Flo rubbed the palms of her hands together like a cartoon villain. “The Dominator Two Thousand should be perfect. Oh! Or Flo’s Special.” A rare laugh bubbled up from her c
hest, ending in a wheezing cough. “What am I saying? Why not bring them both?”

  “Slow your roll, woman. You realize, we’re going at night, under the cover of darkness, when the place is locked up and everyone’s asleep, right? Besides, Wink and I talked. You can’t bring a weapon without both of our approval.”

  “But—”

  “No.”

  “Not even—”

  “Nope.”

  Flo’s shoulders slumped down, and her lower lip protruded. “You’re about as much fun as a root canal.”

  “I know. I’m such a party pooper for keeping you from blowing this town off the map.”

  “A what?”

  “Map? It’s this paper, with drawings—”

  “Not that, Poodle Head. The poopy thing.”

  “Party pooper? Is that not a thing you say?”

  “Well, you’re a pooper. I’ll give you that.”

  Ella threw a stripped wire at Flo’s head, missing by a good foot without the boarder so much as moving a muscle, which was even more disconcerting when Ella considered the target size of the woman’s head.

  Flo scowled. “Yikes. Remind me not to ever let you throw a grenade.”

  “When have we ever thrown a grenade? Wait, scratch that. When have we ever needed to throw a grenade?” Before Flo could answer, Ella waved the question away. “Party pooping aside—nope, that sounds wrong.” She cleared her throat and tried to regain some semblance of a productive conversation. “We’ll need to plan our… let’s call it an incursion.”

  “Oh, I like that.”

  “Thought you might. Wink wants you to stop by the diner tomorrow so we can strategize and make a list of items we’ll need. Hopefully, you’ll have enough time to procure them. Which brings me to my next point.” She took in a breath then slowly released it between her teeth. “I think you need to tell Chapman about the speakeasy.”

  “I agree.”

  Ella opened her mouth to argue, beginning with the multi-bullet point lecture she’d mentally prepared while at work, when Flo’s words registered. “How’s that?”

  “You’re right.”

  Ella pushed her ear forward. “Can you repeat that? I’m what?”

  Flo spoke through clenched teeth. “You. Are. Right.”

  Ella’s hand plunged into her sweatshirt pocket and retrieved her phone. She fiddled with it. “Hold on. Let me get this recorded. Look right here and say that again.”

  “Eat dirt.” Flo flipped her the bird.

  “Nice. Very nice.” Ella lowered her phone. “I think I got it.”

  Once they’d finished insulting each other, they agreed to call the sheriff and ask him to come over as soon as he could.

  Downstairs, they huddled behind the front desk and dialed his office on the rotary phone. His scratchy, gruff voice came over the line and told them he’d get there as soon as he dealt with a Bob Simmons who was in the middle of threatening his neighbors with a shotgun because they’d crossed his property line when trimming the apple tree branches that hung over their side.

  It wasn’t until Flo laid the receiver down that Ella realized the woman hadn’t told him why they wanted to see him. At that moment, Rose called them into the kitchen for a family dinner.

  As they shuffled through the hallway, following the aroma of what promised to be a delicious meal, Ella trailed behind Flo, watching her. The boarder didn’t appear the least bit concerned about Chapman seeing her gun collection.

  Wink and Will were absent for this meal, so the dinner was relegated to the occupants of the inn. Without Edwin, the table felt lacking and hollow. The others seemed to sense the loss, too, as the conversation was subdued.

  Rose’s skirt swayed as she fiddled with the radio on the counter. Soon, the tunes of a bygone era floated through the air and helped to fill the void.

  As always, anytime the innkeeper cooked, Ella held her breath in wary anticipation, praying to God she hadn’t made another gelatin mold. For the first time in a few weeks, her prayers were answered, and there was nary a wobbly, gelatinous blob to be found.

  Dinner wound down twenty minutes later. Ella scraped off the last of the balsamic vinegar dressing, resisting the urge to lick her plate. Beside her, Flo’s foiled coif shivered as she lapped her tongue over the plate.

  Across from them, Jimmy eased back in his seat, swinging his leg in time to the music and keeping one eye on Fluffy who drew ever closer to the chicken bones on the table.

  “I’m stuffed,” Ella said. Thankfully, she’d changed into her yoga pants which were far more forgiving in the waistline than her jeans. “That salad was amazing, Rose.”

  “Thank you. Anybody ready for dessert?”

  Ella shot her hand up.

  Jimmy cocked his head. “You just said you were full.”

  “I did, indeed.” She didn’t expound.

  As Rose floated across the floor, heading towards the refrigerator, a horrible thought struck Ella.

  Leaning in, she whispered, “You don’t suppose she made a gelatin mold for dessert, do you?”

  Both Jimmy’s and Flo’s heads turned in alarm. However, instead of reaching for the large door, Rose’s delicate hand gripped the freezer door above. All three seated at the table let out an audible breath.

  Rose returned with a bowl of ice cream, her ruby lips curved in a wide smile. “Ella, would you get out the toppings, dear?”

  Ella jumped to her feet and dug through the fridge, collecting jars of strawberry syrup, caramel, and something dark brown. The corners of her mouth turned down. Seeing as how the greenhouses didn’t grow cacao, there was little chance the questionable substance was chocolate. Shrugging, she grabbed it anyway, along with some chopped nuts she found in one of the cupboards.

  She laid the goods on the table and took a proffered bowl of ice cream. After drizzling two spoonfuls of caramel sauce and sprinkling a generous handful of nuts on top, she took a bite—and gagged.

  Sputtering, she dribbled the stuff back into the bowl. “Oh my God. What is this?”

  Three faces stared at her.

  “Caramel,” Flo said, her tone condescending. “You’re the one who grabbed the sauce, cotton head.”

  “Not that.” Ella’s face scrunched up involuntarily, and she fought to control her stomach. “The ice cream.”

  “It’s not ice cream.” Rose stared at her through her cat-eye glasses. “It’s mellorine.”

  “Mello—what?”

  “Mellorine. It’s an ice cream substitute.”

  The dessert tasted more like used snot rags than a substitute for the delicious dairy treat. She discretely wiped her cloth napkin over her tongue, trying to erase the God-awful taste, then promptly gargled water.

  “Really, dear,” Rose chided. “That’s quite dramatic.”

  “Here’s a question,” Ella said between swallows. “Why? Why have an ice cream substitute? I get the chocolate substitute.” She stabbed a finger at the questionable jar. “But why ice cream? Aren’t there loads of dairy cows here? Matter of fact, isn’t there a dairy here?”

  She nudged her bowl away, but not too far so as not to offend the innkeeper. “That’s a rhetorical question, by the way. I know there’s a dairy because I visited it.”

  She wasn’t sure why she was getting so worked up—probably the disappointment of expecting ice cream and getting not-ice cream, some poor man’s substitute masquerading as the delicious treat. It wasn’t Rose’s fault, but whoever had invented the not-ice cream in the first place.

  “Forgive me for being rude.” Ella reached for her spoon again. She wanted to be polite and give it another try, but she just couldn’t bring herself to taste another lick—even after smothering more caramel on top.

  The utensil rattled back into her bowl, and she asked in a light tone that she hoped made up for her brusqueness, “Well, it looks delicious, anyway. What’s it made out of?”

  Rose dabbed at her mouth, brushed an invisible crumb from her dress, and didn’t respond.
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  “Rose?”

  “Yes, dear?”

  “What’s this melodrama—”

  “Mellorine.”

  “—made out of?”

  The innkeeper’s chair scraped across the floor as she pushed away from the table. “I forgot to make coffee. Who wants decaf?”

  “Rose?” Ella’s plea fell on deaf ears as the woman pranced away.

  Beside her, Flo’s eyes gleamed, a wicked grin plastered across her face. “I’ll tell you what’s in it.”

  “I regret asking already.”

  “It’s made from frozen animal and vegetable fats.”

  “You lie.”

  Flo shook her head. A weak squeak like a deflating balloon left Ella’s mouth, and she looked desperately to Jimmy for denial of some sort.

  He nodded in confirmation.

  Ella swore under her breath. The insides of her stomach roiled and felt like they were simultaneously climbing her throat and retreating to her bowels.

  Behind the stove, Rose stilled, and Ella knew she’d been listening. She had to be careful how she played this out so as not to hurt her feelings any further than she probably already had.

  Licking her lips, Ella said, “It’s made from fat, you say? Mm, well, that sounds delightful.”

  “Yeah?” Flo scooted Ella’s bowl back towards her. “Here, wouldn’t want this to go to waste, then. Eat up.” The corners of the older woman’s eyes crinkled in silent laughter as she called Ella’s bluff.

  “You know what? I’m good. I’m actually quite full. In fact, I think I need to lie down for a bit. Indigestion and what not. I’ll do the dishes, Rose.” Ella leaped to her feet, but before she picked up her dirty dishes, she leaned in and whispered into Flo’s ear. “I know where you live, Henderson. Just remember that.”

  The wide eyes and hint of panic in her friend’s face was the most satisfying thing Ella had seen in a long time. After setting her dishes in the sink to wash after the others had finished their desserts, Ella wove her way through the mansion to the parlor to nap off her food coma, still grinning about Flo’s horrified expression.

  The windows in the parlor grew dark, like an invisible shutter being drawn over them. When Ella felt mobile again and no longer like an expanding balloon, she turned on the lamps, stoked the fire, and made her way back to the kitchen at the opposite end of the manor.