Turkey Trot Terror

by Kate Bell

  I took another step back. I needed to have that phone removed. I didn’t like dead people calling me. I went in search of my cell phone. I had wanted to call Alec anyway, and now I needed to hear the voice of a real, live person.

  I found my phone on my nightstand and saw that I had missed a call from Alec. I hit redial and let my breath out when he answered.

  “Alec, I just got a phone call from Todd Spellman and there wasn’t anyone on the other end of the line!” I spat out before he could say anything more than hello.

  “Really?” he said. “I didn’t know there was a phone down at the morgue for him to use.”

  “Really?” I almost exploded. “That’s all you have to say about it?”

  “Whoa, hold on Allie. I’m sorry. I was only teasing. Maybe one of the Spellman’s wanted to speak to you since you accompanied me to talk to them yesterday. I didn’t mean to make fun of you, I promise.”

  I caught my breath. I may have been overreacting. “Okay, sorry. I shouldn’t have gotten so upset. It’s weird though. Don’t you think?”

  “It is. Maybe we’ll pay them another visit soon,” he said.

  “Why wouldn’t they speak when I said hello over and over?” I asked, trying to keep the whine out of my voice.

  “Maybe it was a bad connection? No one really uses house phones much anymore. Maybe with the snow, it was just a bad connection?” he suggested.

  I hated it that he was being so pragmatic. Why couldn’t he panic with me? “Yes, I suppose that could happen,” I finally said.

  “And in case you didn’t notice, I called you earlier to invite you to dinner. How do you feel about Mexican food?”

  “I love Mexican food. The cheesier, the better,” I said, brightening.

  “Great, I’ll pick you up at six, if that’s okay?” he asked.

  I agreed and hung up. He didn’t seem bothered by the phone call, but I was. I couldn’t imagine who would call me.

  My cell phone rang, and I looked down at it. Lucy.

  “Hi Lucy,” I said.

  “Hi Allie, did the kids leave to go back to college?” she asked.

  “Yes. Jennifer will be back to stay the night and will leave in the morning.”

  “So what have you found out about Todd Spellman’s murder?” she asked, sounding a little greedy for information.

  “Not much. They are still waiting on the autopsy. We questioned the family, but there wasn’t much there. I’m not sure there’s much anyone knows at this point,” I said.

  “Why don’t I get to go with you on these interrogations?” she asked. There was a slight whine in her voice.

  “Because Alec barely lets me go with him. If I suggested we take you, he’d put his foot down and I wouldn’t be allowed to go, either,” I pointed out.

  She sighed. “I feel so left out.”

  “Hey, there was something weird that happened a few minutes ago. Someone from Todd Spellman’s house called my house phone. His name came up on my Caller Id and when I answered, there was no one on the other end. I can’t imagine how anyone in that house would have my phone number,” I told her.

  “What? That’s creepy!” she exclaimed. Now that was the reaction I wanted. Why did Alec have to be so sensible?

  “I know, right? I mean, why would they call me?”

  “I think this calls for an investigation all by itself,” she exclaimed excitedly.

  “Me too! Alec thought it was nothing, but Todd Spellman never called me when he was alive, so why would I get a call from his house now that he’s dead?” I asked her.

  “Yeah! You don’t think it’s a ghost, do you?” she asked sheepishly.

  “No!” I said. At least I didn’t think it was possible. I didn’t believe in ghosts, did I? I thought about it for a second and creeped myself out. No, I did not believe in that sort of thing and I was not going to start now. “I just have to wonder if something’s going on at that house, is all.”

  “All right, when do we go interview them?” she asked.

  “Tomorrow. I’ll bake a pie and we can take it over. I have a date with Alec tonight, and I don’t want to have to rush anything to get back in time, so we won’t go today,” I said. I had somehow managed to get out of my daily pie baking habit, so it would be good for me to bake something tomorrow. Even with all the holiday baking, I wasn’t doing it nearly enough.

  --9--

  My stomach growled when the waiter set down the bowl of chips and salsa on the table. Would it be rude to slurp down the bowl of salsa, then over turn the chip bowl into my mouth? Probably so. Instead, I opted to take one chip and delicately dip it into the salsa and bring it to my mouth.

  “So, anything new on the Todd Spellman case?” I asked after I had chewed and swallowed enough of the chip to not appear rude.

  “Just that he was shot with a dear hunting rifle. But we had guessed that would be the case,” he said, looking over his menu.

  “Have you talked to any more suspects?” I asked, leaving off, without me. He had been gracious to allow me to go with him to the Spellman’s house and I didn’t want to push him.

  “No, but I’m going to go to the bank tomorrow to interview some of Todd’s employees. Maybe someone knows something there,” he said. “How are the cheese enchiladas here?”

  “Fabulous. But everything here is fabulous,” I said. “What time were you going to go down there?”

  Lucy and I were going to drop by the Spellman’s with a pie in the morning, but I didn’t want to miss sitting in on the interviews at the bank. Someone there had to know something.

  He gave me a lopsided grin and reached for a chip. “Well, what time would work for you?”

  “You know, I’m thinking early afternoon would be good,” I answered, and then realized he was teasing me. I narrowed my eyes at him. “Can I please go with you?”

  “I don’t know. You’re a civilian. What business do you have being there?”

  What business? “Well, in case you forgot, someone shot at me! And my son was in danger while he was out there running a race that he had no idea had been cancelled on account of a murder!”

  He chuckled and reached for his glass of water. “Oh, see, now you’re taking things personally. I’m sure if the killer really wanted to shoot you, he would have.”

  I sat back in my chair and gave him a look that would melt steel. “Mr. Blanchard, I’ve got a mind to tell you off.”

  “That’s detective Blanchard to you, and I was already planning on late afternoon. Sound good?”

  I smiled. “Perfect!”

  “Good. What are you ordering?” he asked, still looking at his menu.

  “Fajitas. I like the sizzle.”

  He chuckled again. “I think I’m going to have the carne’ asada tacos.”

  “Awesome choice,” I said. “And just in time. Here comes the waiter.”

  The waiter came up and asked for our order just as a mariachi band entered the dining room. I looked at the waiter and opened my mouth to order fajitas and the band started up. I glanced at Alec, and then loudly said, Fajitas.

  The waiter leaned in toward me, motioning to his ear. I repeated myself, trying to say it louder, and he pointed to his ear again. I looked at Alec, who was all smiles, obviously enjoying himself at my expense. I held my hand out for the waiter’s order pad and when he handed it over, I wrote both of our orders down and handed the pad back. He smiled and nodded, then left.

  Alec and I ate chips and giggled until the band had passed us and moved into the adjoining dining room.

  “Now you have something to tell your grandchildren,” he said. “The day a mariachi band got the best of grandma.”

  “Oh don’t say that,” I said. “I don’t want anyone calling me grandma any time soon.”

  Alec and I had been seeing each other for over a month and I still didn’t know how he had ended up here in Sandy Harbor. When I had asked over a month ago, before we were dating, he had changed the subject. We should have been past th
at, so I decided to go for it and ask him directly.

  “So Alec, you never have told me how you ended up here in Sandy Harbor,” I said.

  He looked at me and then looked down at his place setting. “I guess you could say I needed a change of pace.”

  “Why?” I asked simply.

  He looked at me. “Because I let my partner die. Brass decided I needed a break for a while and Sandy Harbor police department agreed to take me.”

  My mouth dropped open. “I’m sorry.”

  He gave me a half smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “Sometimes no matter how good your intentions are, you still end up screwing up.”

  “What happened?”

  “We had a hostage situation,” he said reaching for a chip. “Drug dealers had kidnapped one of their customer’s daughters and held her for ransom. My partner decided to go in without adequate backup.”

  “How is that your fault?” I asked gently.

  He let out a heavy sigh. “I was supposed to cover him. But I had told him not to go in. He wouldn’t listen. I was busy trying to call for backup, and he ran into the house, where he was shot dead.”

  I looked steadily at him. “How is that your fault?” I repeated.

  He looked away. “He was my partner. It was my job to cover him and I failed.”

  “Yes, but Alec, weren’t you also doing your job by calling in the situation? And didn’t you tell him to wait?” I asked. I failed to see why he thought it was his fault.

  “Because covering my partner was more important, and I didn’t do it,” he said, and picked up his glass of water and took a sip. He wouldn’t look at me while he talked.

  I watched him for a moment. I didn’t want to push, but it seemed he was taking too much responsibility on himself. “Would he have blamed himself if the tables were turned and it was you that died?”

  He laughed, but it sounded cold. “That’s doubtful. Gordon was green. He had just been promoted to detective, and he thought he knew it all. I warned him to wait for backup, but he was sure he could handle it. He never took responsibility for anything, so, no. He would not blame himself.” He looked at me when he said the last part.

  I nodded slowly. “Do you think there’s a possibility you’re being too hard on yourself?” I knew he didn’t want to hear that, but it seemed obvious to me.

  “He had been married less than a year and had a baby on the way.”

  His eyes became shiny, and he looked away again.

  “I’m sorry,” I said.

  He turned back toward me. “I understand that you think I’m taking the blame on myself and it isn’t justified. But Gordon and I argued a lot. All the time. We had been fighting on the way over to the scene. I swore at him and told him I was getting a new partner. He had pushed me over and over. And in the end, when all was said and done, I still can’t be sure I did all I could to keep him from getting killed.”

  “What do you mean?” I asked him. My heart was breaking for him and I wanted to understand him and what he had been through.

  “I had told him over and over not to go in. But when he said he was going in and I knew he was really going to do it, I told him to do whatever he wanted. I knew how dangerous it was, and I said screw it, and turned away and made a phone call. A damned phone call.”

  “A very important phone call,” I pointed out gently. I could feel tears in my own eyes and I blinked them back.

  He snorted. “I shouldn’t have turned away.”

  “Alec,” I said and reached my hand out to place it on the back of his. He jerked his hand away.

  “Don’t. Really. Just don’t. Plenty of the guys at the station blamed me. Well I blame me, too. I should never have turned away and now there’s a wife and kid without a husband and father. My superior officer sent me here to get away from the guys that blamed me. They thought I should have been charged with negligence or some other charge and fired. And I agree with them.”

  I breathed out, hard. I wished I could say something to help, but I knew it would only make things worse. “I’m sorry,” is all I had.

  “No, I’m sorry. We’re supposed to be having a nice evening, and now I’ve ruined it.”

  “It’s not ruined,” I said as our dinners were brought to the table. “This smells delicious.”

  We needed the distraction. He was intent on blaming himself and there wasn’t much I could do to make him feel better. I wondered if he had done any therapy, but I didn’t want to bring it up. Perhaps later. At least now things were out in the open. Maybe that would help him to deal with it. Secrets had a tendency to eat you alive.

  --10--

  It was officially Christmas season since Thanksgiving was over, but I loved the fall so much, I decided on a distinctly Fall Southern pie. Sweet potato pie was one of my favorites when I was a little girl. Similar to pumpkin, but more dense. I always doubled up on spices. You can never use too much cinnamon in a sweet potato pie.

  It was still slightly warm when Lucy picked me up at ten. I brought a can of whipped cream, just in case the Spellman’s didn’t have any. You can’t eat sweet potato pie without it. Normally I would make my whipped cream from scratch, but it didn’t travel as well as the kind in the can.

  “That smells wonderful,” Lucy said when I got into her car. “Did you happen to make two of them? I wouldn’t mind taking one home with me.”

  “Somehow I knew you were going to say that, and yes I did. Just for you,” I said. “When you drop me off afterwards, I’ll get it for you.”

  “You’re the best!” Lucy said.

  It had snowed almost a foot overnight and the snowplow was out doing its thing. I still needed to learn how to love snow. The snow that came before Christmas was far more tolerable than the snow that fell afterwards. How was it that pre-Christmas snow was white and beautiful, but post-Christmas snow was dirty and muddy looking? I had never been able to figure that out.

  Lucy pulled into the Spellman’s driveway, and the curtains were open in the living room. A small Christmas wreath adorned the front door. We got out of the car and headed up the walk. Alec had told me Todd’s funeral had been the previous day, and I wondered if any relatives had come from out of town. I didn’t know Todd well enough to feel like I should go to the funeral, but I was sure there had been plenty of people from town that had gone.

  The door opened before we could get up on the front step and Connie Sutter met us. “Good morning,” she said, looking warily at me, and then Lucy.

  “Good morning Connie, this is my friend Lucy,” I said, introducing them. “I baked a pie for ya’ll this morning and brought it right over. I know it’s still early, but it’s sweet potato and that’s a vegetable, so it’s healthy and can be eaten in the morning, right?” I decided that turning on my Southern charm might help us get some information.

  She glanced at the pie, then back to me. “Oh, you shouldn’t have,” she said with what looked like a forced smile. She glanced back over her shoulder and then turned back to me.

  We stood on the step looking at each other for a few moments and I was beginning to wonder if she would let us in. I held up the reusable shopping bag I had put the pie in. “It’s really very good. My grandmama from Alabama taught me how to bake the old Southern way.”

  Then she smiled genuinely at me. “Please, come in,” she said and motioned toward the door.

  “Let me cut you a piece of this pie,” I said. I could see the kitchen through a pass through in the casual living room and headed there before she could object.

  I ran into her husband Terrence on my way. “Oh, hello Terrence, I brought you all a sweet potato pie. My grandmama taught me to make them oh, so many years ago!” I said brightly.

  “Oh?” he said, but didn’t try to keep me from my mission.

  “This is my friend Lucy,” I said. “You don’t mind me looking for some plates, do you?” I hoped I wasn’t about to get kicked out. There were four pies and two cakes on the kitchen counters. “Oh goodness, I see you�
�re already set for sweet things, aren’t you?”

  “Yes, the ladies from the church sent most of them home with us yesterday,” Connie said.

  “I’m sorry. I’m being very forward, aren’t I?” There was an ancient looking wall phone in Todd’s kitchen, and I looked at it suspiciously.

  “Oh no, no problem,” Terrence said. “I haven’t had sweet potato pie in years.”

  “Well then, I’ll serve you up a slice,” I said, finding a stack of paper plates on another counter top. “How is Mr. Spellman doing today?”

  “He’s doing well,” Terrence answered. “In fact, he’ll be right in, any moment now.”

  I cut a piece of pie and looked up and there was Mr. Spellman, standing in the living room. I nearly dropped my pie when I saw him. I couldn’t recall ever seeing Mr. Spellman standing. He still had a slightly dazed look on his face, but he gave me a little smile.

  “Well Mr. Spellman, you do look well. Would you like some sweet potato pie?” I asked. I glanced at Lucy, and she looked just as shocked as I was to see him standing there.

  Mr. Spellman nodded, and his smile got a little bigger, but he didn’t say anything.

  “Let me help you,” Connie said, and came to stand beside me.

  She looked distinctly uncomfortable as she got out a tray and some napkins. I couldn’t tell what was going on here, but something definitely was.

  We all went into the living room to sit and eat our pie. It was cool in there and I wondered if Mr. Spellman was cold. He still hadn’t said a word, but he was feeding himself his pie and seemed to be enjoying it.

  “This is wonderful pie,” Terrence said. “Your grandmama did a good job when she taught you to bake.”

  “Oh yes, she did,” I replied. “Mr. Spellman, I’m so sorry for your loss.”

  I hadn’t had a chance to say it before and I wanted to see what his reaction would be. He simply looked up at me and nodded and went on eating his pie.