by Ami Diane
“My list of suspects is rendered moot because the sailor’s not dead—not that I’m not happy about that, mind you. Because I am. Lastly, incidentally, the person who was my top suspect for Diego’s supposed death, a man who’d been in the wind, pops up on the radar again only he’s dead.”
She sucked in a much-needed breath. “I guess now the question is, who killed Darren?”
“And why?” Wink added.
“Of course, we’re operating under the assumption that his death wasn’t natural. Now, before we consider the obvious, how was his marriage with his wife? Anyone know?”
“By all accounts,” Wink said, “they appeared to be happy.”
Flo fiddled with her tinfoil hat on the table. “Just ‘cause they appeared that way doesn’t mean they were. People hide a lot under the surface.”
Pressing her lips together, Ella eyed the woman, knowing the emotional storm brewing beneath that she was referring to. Flo had harbored a deep-seated love for Wink’s late husband for years, a love that began in their childhoods.
Ella steered the conversation back on topic. “Darren’s wife seemed genuinely distraught at the sheriff’s office. Let’s just assume their marriage was solid until we have information to the contrary. Which leaves us with two obvious suspects and the motive being this stupid treasure.”
Wink waved at a regular who’d dropped money at the till before leaving. “Six and Diego.”
“Six told me his whereabouts on Friday when I thought Diego was dead, but I’m not sure if that’ll be helpful since we don’t know what day Darren died or the official cause of death. By Harold’s account, it most likely was a blow to the back of the head, but I’d still like to know what Pauline finds.” She drummed her fingers on the table. “It’s probably too soon for an autopsy report, but I’m guessing the doc’s narrowed down the time of death by now.”
“Question is,” Wink said, “how do we get that information?”
“I’ll get it.” Flo’s hair wobbled as she looked from Ella to Wink. “We’re playing poker in an hour, some of us gals who don’t feel like playing Bridge.”
Ella side-eyed Wink before asking, “And you’re sure Pauline will be there?”
Flo nodded.
Pauline was, as far as she knew, the only one who came from closest to Ella’s era, an era of stringent confidentiality. Which was unfortunate when it came to getting information. However, when plied with alcohol, the woman’s lips were greased for gossip, and she usually slipped up, divulging far more information than she should.
“You think she’ll talk after a few drinks?”
Flo snorted. “It’ll be more than a few, but yeah. I’ll get her talking.”
Ella still didn’t like the sound of it. “Just don’t do anything… unconventional.”
“It’s Flo,” Wink said.
“Fair point. What I mean is, nothing illegal. Like, no drugging her or anything if she doesn’t talk.”
Flo agreed to this, although, she seemed rather disappointed, like Ella had taken some of the wind from her sails. It made Ella wonder if she hadn’t laid down any stipulations, just how far the crazy boarder would have gone to pry information from the doctor.
“We could join you,” she suggested.
“Not a chance, poodle head. Besides, we start in around 4:00 ‘cause Gertie’s gotta go to bed early.”
Part of Ella was relieved she’d still be on her shift at that time. Yet, another part of her balled up with anxiety that settled in the pit of her stomach. She reminded herself that Flo had functioned for sixty-something years without her, and she couldn’t always keep her in line—not that she’d had much success on that front thus far. After all, how much trouble could she get into?
CHAPTER 19
AFTER FLO LEFT, saying she needed to do some “prep work,” whatever that meant, Ella and Wink bussed tables.
In the kitchen, as Ella set a stack of dishes in the sink, she asked Wink if she knew anyone who worked at the dentist’s office.
“Sandy works reception. You thinking about checking Maria’s alibi?”
“I am.” Ella glanced up at the clock, wondering if she had time to run there and back before it got busy in the diner. She wasn’t even sure she knew where it was located.
“Why don’t I just call her right now?”
Ella brightened. “Perfect. I’ll do dishes while you do.”
She filled the sink with shallow suds while Wink stood near the door, the phone glued to her ear. After the normal pleasantries were out of the way, the cord wrapping around the diner owner’s finger, she said, “Listen, dear. I’m sure you’re busy, so I’ll make this brief. The reason I called is because I have a rather strange question. Did you work last Friday?”
Wink paused, listening to the answer on the other end for a moment before giving Ella an encouraging nod.
“Lovely, dear. Do you happen to remember if Ms. Heinzman had an appointment that day?”
Ella paused amidst clanking the dishes in the sink, scarcely moving for fear of missing a syllable.
“She did? Her sister dropped her off, you say? Oh, that’s wonderful. About what time was her appointment?” Another pause. “I don’t want to get you in trouble or anything. It’ll just be between you and me—how’s that? Why am I asking?” Wink twisted around, shooting Ella a frantic look.
Ella shrugged, helpless, grasping the first idea that leaped to mind like a life preserver. She mimed drinking tea. Suds dropped from her sopping hands all over the floor as she did.
Wink’s brows pinched together as she spoke into the phone. “Well, you see, we were supposed to get together for tea?” Ella gave her a thumbs up, and Wink picked up steam. “Yes, tea. And well, she didn’t show and called after the fact, saying she had a dentist appointment and our get together slipped her mind.
“Frankly, I have a hard time believing that. So, I thought you could be a dear and confirm it because, well, I was a bit put out by the whole ordeal. You understand, right?”
Ella was impressed with the diner owner’s prowess at fabricating such a tale while thinking on her toes and added a second thumbs up to her first. When she realized she looked like Fonzie from Happy Days, she dropped her hands and settled for an enthusiastic nod.
Wink listened for what felt like an interminable amount of time, finally ending with, “Well, thank you. I suppose it’s good to know she didn’t stand me up for some trumped up reason. I appreciate you telling me so. Thanks.”
After hanging up, Wink let out a heavy breath. “Goodness can that woman talk. Maria was there from 1:00 to 3:00 getting a root canal.”
“Hm, I suppose that still leaves a window for her to have killed Darren, but it’s less likely. Also, there’s still the question of motive with her.” Turning, she wiped a towel over the dishes. “If she’d had her teeth worked on before class, she certainly didn’t let on. I guess most people don’t.”
Wink shrugged and joined her at the sink. Together, they finished the dishes.
Meanwhile, Horatio, who’d been watching them silently from his station at the fryer, finally spoke. “What was all that about?”
“Nothing,” the two women said at the same time.
“You two are poking your ears where they don’t belong again, aren’t you?”
“It’s noses,” Ella corrected. “And of course we are.”
As they were drying the last plate, the bell over the front door sounded. She swiped her hands over a towel while sweeping into the diner to help their neglected customers.
The next few hours flew by in a frenzy of dirty dishes, lousy tips, and at least one tap on her butt from an elderly gentleman who she was pretty sure had dementia. At least that’s the excuse he made when trying to skimp on the bill.
Exhausted, Ella leaned against the island in the kitchen and guzzled water like a camel.
“You never got your break,” Wink said without preamble as she swept into the kitchen. “Why don’t you go home for the day?”
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“You sure?”
“It’s so dead out there now, a tumbleweed could blow through.”
“Ha. Hilarious.” As Ella pulled off her apron, she asked for Mrs. Alexander’s address. “I think it’s high time I pay my condolences.”
Wink’s thin eyebrows rose skeptically. “To a stranger?”
“Yep.”
“And when you say ‘condolences’ you mean, snoop, correct?”
“That is correct. Don’t misunderstand me for being heartless, though. My heart breaks for the woman.”
Wink followed her into the diner where Ella pointed at the pie case. “Which is why I’m taking her this apple—no, cranberry pie.”
“The least popular one?”
“Maybe. Okay, you’re right. Apple it is.”
Wink helped her locate a container for the pie. “I’ll go with you. Horatio can manage for a little bit.”
“Thank you. I was hoping you’d say that.”
After a fleeting moment of confusion, Mrs. Alexander opened the door and welcomed them in. The Alexanders’ home was on the smaller side but cozy. The bric-a-brac covering the shelves and walls made the space feel like being in a cluttered antique shop.
“I’m just going to slip this in the kitchen,” the woman said, holding up the pie. “Please, make yourself at home.”
Ella settled onto an art deco sofa and shifted until she became comfortable—actually, until Wink side-eyed her and told her to stop fidgeting. But then Ella decided she was comfortable.
Darren’s wife returned, a woman whose first name Ella had yet to learn.
“We don’t mean to intrude,” Wink began.
“Not at all. I’m happy for the distraction.”
Everywhere Ella looked was a reminder of the man who’d recently called the place home. On the mantle was a slew of pictures. A worn men’s coat still hung on the coat tree.
“We’re so sorry for your loss, Mrs. Alexander.” Ella swallowed. Even the woman’s name was a reminder of the man she’d lost.
The woman’s eyes fell to her hands as she folded them in her lap. “Please, call me Elizabeth.”
“How’re you holding up?” Wink asked gently.
“As much as can be expected, I suppose.” She brushed a hand over her eyes, eyes swollen and red-rimmed.
“I know we’ve never met,” Ella began, “but is there anything you need? Anything we can do to help? Besides bring pie, of course.”
She gave a ghost of a smile. “Thank you, I’m fine. The ladies at the church have taken it upon themselves to provide me with enough meals to feed an army.”
“That’s good.” Ella fidgeted and glanced at Wink, unsure of how to broach the topic. Wink took up her cue.
“I know the pain of losing a husband. During this time, you may feel all alone, and the times that you’re surrounded by those who love you can make you feel even more isolated. Allow yourself time to grieve. It’s okay to lean on others.” She paused, giving Elizabeth time to dab at her eyes. “I know this is difficult to talk about, but did Sheriff Chapman tell you how Darren passed?”
Elizabeth’s voice came out scratchy. She cleared her throat and tried again. “He said it was a blow to the back of the head. I didn’t ask for more details. At the time, I didn’t want it to seem real.”
Ella spoke in a soft voice. “Do you know anyone who’d want to hurt Darren?”
Elizabeth shook her head. “He could be gruff, and sometimes that rubbed people the wrong way. But nothing worth killing him over.” A fresh tear broke free and traveled down the widow’s rouged cheek before she swiped it away.
A band of guilt tightened around Ella’s chest, making her feel sleazy for digging at Elizabeth’s recent, open wound.
“It’s that cursed treasure, I tell you.” Elizabeth’s hands curled into tight fists, turning white. “That’s what did it. He became so obsessed recently, more than usual.”
“Really? Any idea why the sudden fire?”
Elizabeth shook her head.
“Do you know what he planned on doing with it if he ever found it?”
Her glistening eyes lifted and met Ella’s. “What do you mean?”
“I mean, what use is a load of treasure in Keystone? Did he ever speak of leaving town?”
The woman’s cheeks flushed beneath her makeup, her skin coloring all the way to her hairline. She avoided Ella’s gaze.
“It’s alright, dear,” Wink coaxed. “We won’t tell a soul. Were the two of you planning on leaving?”
It was a long time before Elizabeth answered, and when she did, she seemed to chose her words carefully. “The agreement was if he found it, we’d leave at the next inhabited stop. Honestly, I never thought there was a chance of him finding it. I didn’t want to move. I like it here. It’s comfortable and safe.”
Ella thought her word choice to describe the village odd considering the rash of recent murders but chose not to voice this. “When was the last time you saw him?”
“Friday. Late morning. He works at the water treatment plant. It was supposed to be his day off, but he got called in last-minute because someone was sick.”
Ella’s gut twisted at the timing.
“One more question,” Wink said, “then we’ll get out of your hair. I’m afraid it might be misconstrued as indelicate, but I don’t know how else to ask.”
Elizabeth’s eyebrows bunched together, her curiosity piqued.
“Did Maria Heinzman ever pay Darren a visit?”
“No. Why would she?”
“We were just wondering,” Ella answered for Wink. “Someone thought they spotted her treasure hunting too, and we were curious if she’d caught that bug. We thought maybe you could confirm it because you might have seen her trailing Darren.”
Ella was surprised with the ease with which the fib came out. It turned out, she was quick on her toes as well. Perhaps she should be more concerned than she was about spending so much time with Wink and Flo.
“I never saw her around my husband.” Elizabeth’s voice dropped to a whisper. “You don’t think she was involved, do you?”
“No, I’m sure it’s just a rumor. As I said, it was one person, and they’re unscrupulous at the best of times. Nothing to be concerned about.”
Ella and Wink stood, moving slowly toward the door. After the diner owner made Elizabeth promise to call her if she needed anything at all, even if it was just a shoulder to lean on, she and Ella stepped out into the early evening air.
As the duo sauntered down the porch steps, Ella said, “It seems rather coincidental that Darren got called into work the day he gets killed.”
“Does it?”
“Well, maybe not, but what if he lied to his wife about who called him?”
“Hm, I’ll give you that. Might be worth following up on.”
“Know anyone at the water treatment plant you can sweet-talk?”
“No, unfortunately.”
“Bummer.” She’d have to call or drive down there herself and see if she couldn’t coerce the information from someone, a grieving coworker perhaps.
There was that slimy feeling again. She was beginning to realize that one of the few drawbacks to doing her own investigating was feeling like a creep, preying on others’ emotions.
They walked towards the diner and inn in relative silence, their shoes making the only noise as they whispered over the concrete walk. With no seemingly obvious motive for wanting Darren dead, the only motive Ella kept returning to was the obvious one: the treasure.
Perhaps she was making this too complicated, searching for a more complex drive to kill besides age-old greed. She supposed greed was a common theme amongst murders throughout human history for a reason.
Five minutes later, back at the diner, Ella stood in front of the pastry cases, trying to decide on her dinner before heading home.
The phone rang in the kitchen. With a sigh, she swung through the door just as Wink pulled the phone from its rest.
“Hello
—”
A voice boomed on the other end, deep and loud enough for Ella to catch the words “clink” and “get her before I push her into the ocean.”
“On my way.” Wink hung up the phone, turning to Ella, but before she could say anything, Ella interrupted her.
“Flo’s in the slammer?”
“Yes. Will you finish closing up while I go bail her out?”
“That’s not fair. I want to see this. Horatio can close up. Right, Horatio?”
The cook was currently dancing to the radio, spatula flying. He waved them away dismissively.
“See? Besides, there’s just Larry out there, anyway.” She clenched her hands together and pleaded for Wink to let her tag along.
“Only if you wipe that grin off your face.”
Ella’s smile evaporated. Solemnly, she nodded.
However, the moment Wink turned her back, she grinned from ear to ear, pumping her fist in the air. This was going to be good.
After they hung up their aprons, Ella and Wink rushed out of Grandma’s Kitchen. She nearly tripped Wink several times in her excitement.
“How many times have you had to bail Flo out? Ballpark number. Over ten?”
When Wink didn’t respond, Ella’s mouth fell open as she skipped up the sidewalk beside Wink’s stoic march. “It’s not over twenty, is it? Thirty? You’ll stop me when I get close, right?” She threw random numbers out all the way to the sheriff’s office.
Inside, she beelined straight for the first holding cell, only to discover it held two older women, neither of them with a frizzy bouffant. It was the same in the middle cell, as well.
At the third and final one, she found Flo alone. For the moment, the woman was rather preoccupied arguing with one of her cell neighbors—a woman with equally frizzy gray hair and a bright pink flamingo sweater. By their slurred speech, both were two sheets to the wind.
Ella wasted no time pulling out her phone. “Hey, Flo. Smile for me.”