One Potato, Two Potato, Dead

by Lynn Cahoon

  Angie thought about arguing, but Estebe had called it. She was bone tired. Ian was coming in tonight. Hopefully he wouldn’t want to see her because she had big plans tonight after she got home and fed the animals. She was going to put a pot of soup on to warm, make a sandwich with some of the leftover bread, and then sit in front of the television until she either fell asleep or finished eating.

  She got as far as the soup being on the stove before her phone rang. Glancing at the display, she saw it was Ian. She sat at the table and put the phone on speaker. “Hey, are you back?”

  “I am. Allen just dropped me off at my place. You want me to come over?”

  Angie thought about saying yes, but then he spoke up again.

  “That pause tells me the answer. You’re not mad at me, are you?”

  Was she mad? She should be mad. She definitely was mad. Her brain felt fuzzy. “Honestly, right now, I’m just so tired I could climb into bed and sleep for a week.”

  “Allen told me you taught a cooking class this afternoon. How did that go?”

  She felt bad. He sounded so chipper, so excited to chat. And all she wanted was to go curl into a ball. “It was good. Hey, why don’t you come over for breakfast tomorrow? We can talk then. Right now, I don’t think I can form another coherent thought.”

  “That sounds great. I’ll bring orange juice and donuts from the store. Is seven too early?” He sounded excited, hopeful.

  “Let’s make it eight. That way I can feed Precious and Mabel before you get here.”

  “Leave that to me. I’ve missed the zoo.” He paused and Angie wondered if he’d hung up, but just before she responded, he continued, his voice low and comforting. “I’ve missed you too.”

  Well, don’t go taking off without telling me, was the first response she considered. Then she took a breath. She was tired. No need to bring out the worst in herself just because she needed a nap. “I’ve missed you. See you in the morning.”

  This time she was the one who hung up first. And then she forced herself to pour a bowl of soup and made herself a sandwich. She ate at the kitchen table, looking at her phone. What had caused Ian to take off so abruptly? And the better question was, would he tell her? Leaving the dishes in the sink for tomorrow, she climbed the stairs to her bed and fell across it, not even changing into pajamas. Dreams didn’t come when she fell into sleep.

  * * * *

  The next morning, she woke without an alarm. She had thirty minutes before Ian would be here, and typically, the boy was early. She headed to the shower to get ready and within twenty minutes was downstairs making coffee when his car pulled into the drive. True to his word, he first went out to the barn, which gave Angie time to pull out the bacon and eggs she’d planned on making for breakfast. By the time he let himself in the kitchen, she was sitting at the table, reading the morning news on her tablet and drinking her first cup of the day.

  “Good morning, beautiful.” He took off his coat and hung it up. Then he dropped a bag on the table. “I’ll put that away as soon as I wash my hands. Precious wasn’t having anything to do with me doing a quick feed and hello. The girl had a lot to tell me.”

  “Yeah, she’s been a little clingy lately. Maybe it’s because you were gone?” Angie used her cup to point to the coffeepot. “Grab a cup and sit down. We’ll have the dessert part of breakfast first. Then I’ll make a hash scramble for the main event.”

  “Sounds wonderful, but you don’t have to feed me. It’s bad enough I pushed my way into an invitation for this morning. Rather cheeky of me, don’t you think?” He dried his hands, then poured the coffee, refilling her cup before he sat down.

  “I really am glad you’re back.” She watched as he unpacked the donuts. “Do you want to tell me what the impromptu trip was all about?”

  “I should have called you before I left. I realized that once I got on the plane from New York to London. I was selfish and rude. All I can do is say I’m sorry and explain why I had to leave.”

  When she didn’t respond, he nodded.

  “I don’t blame you for being angry, but I went looking for my past.” He handed her a maple bar and a napkin. “I hear you’ve been playing your version of Nancy Drew while I’ve been gone.”

  “Your uncle isn’t happy with me.” Angie shrugged. “But I can’t help it if people just like to tell me things.”

  “When you go around asking questions…” Ian added to her statement. He waited for her to react. When she merely shrugged, he grinned. “Are you still tired? You usually put up more of a fight than that.”

  “I am tired. However, he’s right. I am trying to figure out who would have had motive to kill Daniel. And honestly, there’s a couple of people in line before Hope, which makes me relax a little. The girl doesn’t need to be dealing with this. She should be going to football games and dances and hanging out at the quad. You know, like a normal college kid. Instead, she’s working as many hours as she can get, carrying a full load of classes, and I believe she volunteers with her church group. The kid’s a saint.”

  “Then there’s no way she’s going to be charged with killing Arnie.” Ian reached over and took her hand. “You don’t have to carry the weight of the world on your shoulders. You can let others solve some of the problems.”

  “I don’t take all the world’s problems.” She squeezed his hand, thankful he was around. “I haven’t gone out of our little world here in River Vista.”

  “Yet.” He smiled and they ate their donuts. Then she frowned.

  “Wait, you called him Arnie again. You called him that the night we met him. Did you know the guy?”

  “And that’s the story I came to tell. Can I help you make breakfast while we talk? It would help me to keep my hands busy during this discussion. I’m not quite sure how you’re going to handle what I’m going to say.” He nodded to the sink. “I’m a pretty good potato peeler.”

  She laughed, remembering Estebe’s request. “That’s a good thing because after you talk, I have to ask another favor of you.”

  “Now, this is getting interesting.” They stood and she handed him the potatoes to wash and peel as she chopped onions and bacon.

  “I’m not sure where to start with this, so I’m going to start at the beginning. I didn’t fit in in England. The kids all called me Yank and I got in more than my share of fights about my heritage and my lack of a father.” He didn’t look at her, just focused on the potatoes. “I told you when my mom got pregnant, she left the States and set up her future in London. Well, it worked out great for her, she got a great job and loved living there. I always felt like an outsider.”

  Angie’s heart ached for the little boy who was just trying to find his way in the world.

  “One day in middle school, I was in the middle of a fight and losing. It was three against one, but I was giving as good as I got. All of a sudden, I felt someone at my back. It was Arnie, and he was fighting off one of the bullies.” He smiled at the memory.

  “That must have surprised you.”

  “Definitely. Arnie was the new kid, and being from Canada, he wasn’t fitting in well, either. So after that day, we were best friends and thick as thieves. Arnie’s folks lived on the shady side of the street, but no one was ever home at my house. So we hung out there a lot.” He put the last peeled potato on the cutting board. “Do you want these peels in a compost heap?”

  “I’ll take them out later.” She quickly chopped the potatoes and put them in the large cast iron skillet with the onions and bacon. “So if you were friends, why didn’t he recognize you?”

  “He did. The problem is we didn’t stay friends.” He put the peelings into a plastic bag, then ran water over the dishrag and rinsed out the sink. “We were in high school and my mom was taking me to Paris for a weekend trip. She wanted to have the college talk with me, and getting me away from Arnie was a bonus.”

&n
bsp; “I think I like your mom.”

  “I think you will. Anyway, Arnie said he had something big going on and I should stay home and hang with him. My mom laid down the law, and I went with her. When I came back, Arnie was in juvenile, charged with grand theft auto. Someone died during the job. I don’t know what happened, but there were rumors all over school the next week. I never saw him again until last week.”

  “You would have been with him if your mom hadn’t taken you out of town.” She poured more coffee into her cup and refilled Ian’s as well. “You must have felt lucky.”

  “I felt guilty. Like maybe I could have talked him out of it.” Ian joined her at the table and sipped his coffee. “So when he told me I was wrong, that he wasn’t Arnold Manner, I went back home to see if I was crazy. If I could find out what had happened to my old friend. Mom has been on me to visit, so I took her up on her offer and went. I found that article I sent you, then nothing. I thought if I was there in person, I might find something in the records, but no, it was a dead end. I talked to everyone we’d known as kids. Even took the train to Paris one day to track down a guy who had run the gang Arnie was part of. No one had seen him since he went to jail. His folks had died years ago. When I didn’t find anything, I came home.”

  “But you still think Daniel Monet was your friend, Arnie Manner.”

  He nodded. “I know it was him. I just don’t know why he didn’t want to acknowledge me.”

  “Maybe he didn’t recognize you. Or maybe he was scared you’d out him when he’d turned his life around.” She opened her notebook. “Do you want to know the weird thing about ‘Daniel Monet’? I can’t find him on the web. Anywhere. No mention of this guy who supposedly is a visiting professor from this culinary school in Toronto. I even called the school and asked for him, but no one knew any one by that name.”

  “Arnold Manner disappears and years later, Daniel Monet appears.” He picked up a pen and drew a line down the middle. On the right side, he wrote Arnie Manner—England. “What date was that article I sent you?”

  Angie checked her email. “Two thousand three.”

  “So we know he was in England then and would have been about eighteen.” He finished his chart listing out years and ending with 2017 and the name Daniel Monet. “Now we just need to find out where he was and, possibly, who he was for those missing years.”

  He took Angie’s hand and squeezed it. “I’m sorry for not keeping you in the loop. I’ll never do that again.”

  Angie squeezed his hand back, but inside she wondered if that was a promise Ian shouldn’t have made.

  Chapter 13

  By the time Ian left, they’d been able to fill in three more years, two at the top with Arnie in England and one at the bottom where the Boise school had announced Daniel Monet’s upcoming visit. The other twelve years were still a blank.

  “At least it’s something.” Ian kissed her at the door. “Thank you for breakfast.”

  “Thank you for playing Clue with me.” She pushed his hair out of his eyes. “Your uncle is going to tell you I’m a bad influence.”

  “He’s already mentioned that fact a few times.” He hesitated. “I hate to bring this up, but Allen told me one more thing about Daniel’s death. The guy was naked when they found him. Hope didn’t say he’d tried to force her into anything, did she?”

  “She hasn’t said anything like that to me.” Angie pondered the idea. Could Hope be minimizing what happened because she was embarrassed?

  “You might want to let her know if he did, she wasn’t to blame. The guy was always pushy with what he wanted, even back when we were kids. Anyway, speaking of Allen and Maggie, we’re going over there on Sunday for dinner. Do you want me to pick you up before or after I go to church?”

  “If I’m meeting the pseudoparents, I guess I should play the whole game. Pick me up before. I have a dress I haven’t worn in years. I hope it still fits.” She leaned into his neck. “Or we could just stay here and I could cook.”

  “They’re not bad people, really. Maggie already thinks you’re a peach because you stood up to Allen. She says the family needs more strong females to keep the men in line.”

  “I don’t know about that.” She stared at him. “You took off without even mentioning you were leaving.”

  “Now, see, I knew you were mad.” He leaned against the doorframe. “What can I do to make it up to you?”

  “Not make me go to dinner with Allen and Maggie?” She tried for a pleading look, but apparently, it just looked funny because he broke out laughing.

  He stepped out onto the porch. “Save me a spot at dinner Thursday. I don’t have anything in my fridge and I don’t have time to shop.”

  “There’s always room at the bar,” she called after him. She watched him get into his truck and back out of the driveway. Grabbing the sack off the sink, she went to drop off the peelings into the compost pile. Next year, her garden was going to be amazing. Back in the house, she finished putting away things from breakfast, then sank into the chair, glancing at her notebook. Right now the only suspects she had in Daniel’s death were people she didn’t think would kill the guy. One was Hope, who had left physical evidence at the scene. Then there was Meg, the over-the-top student he’d been sleeping with. And finally, there was Tanya or Tanya’s jealous husband. Tanya in her weird way had loved Daniel, so if their affair was the reason Daniel was dead, then the husband had killed him.

  Then you had the fact that Daniel Monet was an alias. Normal people didn’t change their name and start a new life. Wait, he could have been in the witness protection program. Did Canada even have something like that? And if so, wouldn’t his murder have been covered up? Angie decided she’d been watching way too many cop shows. She looked up the address where Daniel had been living on Google. A link to Zillow showed her the house had been up for sale and just taken off the market last week. After Daniel’s murder. She flipped through the staged pictures of the rooms, landing on the game room where he’d been strangled and left on the top of the pool table.

  The newspapers had given her the how and where, but Ian had added in the other piece. Daniel had been naked. She picked up her phone and called the one person she knew in real estate. Reana probably wouldn’t be happy to hear from her, especially after what had happened earlier this year. But a Realtor never breaks bonds with a potential client.

  She got voice mail. “Hey, Reana. I was wondering if you could get me a look at this house?” She rattled off the street address. Maybe she’d get lucky and the realtor would be unaware of the murder. Of course, she would have had to be out of state not to hear the details of Daniel’s death. Anyway, it was worth a shot. “Call me when you can get me inside.”

  She spent the rest of the morning cleaning the house, getting more information on Tanya, and trying to identify the mystery student. When she was about ready to drive into Boise and check out Daniel’s office again, her phone rang.

  “You know I shouldn’t be getting you in there.” Reana was direct and to the point, a quality Angie had admired when she was looking for the County Seat.

  “Come on, Reana. I’ve got dinner reservations for two at the restaurant on Saturday night if you can.”

  “How can you pull that off? I just called to get a client in for his anniversary and you’re booked for over a month.”

  Angie smiled. She had Reana right where she wanted her. “I have my ways. You name the date you need a table and I’ll get it set up. And their meal’s on me too.”

  “It better be. I had to sweet-talk my way into the house. The owner really wants to sell now, but the police tape is scaring away potential buyers.”

  Angie heard a doorbell ring, and Reana called to someone that she’d be right there. Then she dropped her voice. “Look, I’m alone in the office until Merry gets back from lunch. Meet me at the house in an hour. The police have released it back to the
owner, and his Realtor is getting ready to have a crime scene cleaner go through the place. I don’t know why, everyone is going to know what happened. The place will never sell now.”

  “Thank you. I’ll be there in an hour.” She hung up the phone and looked at the photos again. She’d look at the game room first, then she’d go directly to Daniel’s home office. If he was a ghost, no one would be showing up to claim his belongings. Maybe she could find out where he’d been before Boise. She tucked her notebook into her tote bag and grabbed her jacket and keys. Dom wagged his tail, hitting the floor.

  “Sorry, guy, I don’t know when I’ll be back.” She checked his water dish just in case her errand took longer than she planned, then she locked up the house.

  It took forty-five minutes for her to get to the north end of Boise. A lot of these houses were over a hundred years old and built to be mini-mansions of the day. She drove slowly to the road that would take her to the house and wasn’t surprised to see Reana’s compact parked in front of the house.

  She climbed out of her SUV, hit the remote lock, and then went to knock on Reana’s window. The woman jumped in her seat, dropping the phone she’d been texting on to the floor of the car. She fumbled to retrieve it, then climbed out of the car.

  “You scared me.” She smoothed the skirt to her suit and adjusted her matching jacket.

  “Sorry. I thought you knew I was coming.”

  “Let’s just get this over with. I don’t want the cops showing up while we’re inside.” She locked her car and power walked as fast as she could toward the house in her three-inch stilettos. “And I need a reservation for this Saturday. For John and Carol Huffington. Seven p.m. okay?”

  Angie keyed the information into her phone. “It’s done. I pay my debts.”

  “I know. I’m just a little wigged out about going inside. You know these old houses hold spirits. I wouldn’t be surprised if this one has more than one ghost.” She keyed a code into the lock box and the key dropped out. She glanced back at Angie. “Are you sure about this?”