Chapter 8 #2
“Not a bad idea.” Many of the towns surrounding Asheville were similar in size to Bramblewood.
“Vanna, time-out.” Tegan formed a T with her hands. “Allie’s in a pickle. I’m here to help.”
“Do you need me to do a grocery run?”
“Not that kind of pickle. She’s a person of interest in the murder of Jason Gardner.”
Vanna gasped. “He’s dead?”
“He was stabbed,” I said. “Last night.”
“Oh, no!” Tears sprang to her eyes. A sob caught in her throat. She covered her mouth. “Oh!”
The memory of Jason mumbling, “Duh,” and expiring directly afterward caught me up short. Should I try to track down Delilah and let her know he’d been killed? Would she care?
Doing my best to maintain my calm, I went into the walk-in refrigerator and emerged with two dozen eggs and four cubes of butter.
I dumped the butter into a large glass bowl and placed it in the microwave to melt.
Then I began cracking eggs into two other bowls—eight for a double batch of cookies and eight for the poppy-seed muffins.
“Stabbed?” Vanna repeated.
“In the house he was renting,” I said.
She slumped onto a stool beside the prep counter. “What happened? Why are you a person of interest? Because you met him for dinner?”
“Because around eleven thirty, he wrote me three texts and asked me to come over. He said it was urgent.”
“Urgent?” Vanna screwed up her mouth. “Since when is a booty call urgent?”
“It wasn’t a booty call!” I snapped. “We did not have that kind of relationship. He wanted to hire me … us,” I added judiciously, “to cater his soiree next Sunday.”
“Us?”
“It was going to be huge. We’d scheduled an appointment to discuss the menu today, so I thought he was texting me about it.
Anyway, I phoned to find out what was so vital, but he didn’t answer, and I got worried, so I went there, and …
” My breath caught in my chest. “He was still alive, but he died within minutes.”
“Who do you think stabbed him?” Tegan asked.
“I don’t know.” I told them what I’d relayed to the police, and once again wondered if the killer had left through a rear door and escaped across the backyard. Had the police searched for footprints?
“Allie,” Vanna said, her voice thin, “if we’d both gone to dinner with him, we could’ve saved him.”
I gawked at her. “He didn’t choke to death.”
“I mean he would’ve stayed out later with both of us to entertain,” Vanna said. “He wouldn’t have been there when the thief was robbing him.”
“I didn’t say he was robbed.” Had he been? Was the killer simply an opportunist? No. Whoever it was had stolen the spearpoint from my house, indicating premeditation. One didn’t go around town carrying a spearpoint on one’s person.
Tegan crossed to the Cuisinart Coffee Center and switched it on. “Who wants coffee?”
“Me!” I’d fed Darcy, but I’d skipped my morning cup of coffee. Caffeine was a must to help me get through the day.
Vanna fetched a tissue from her purse and blew her nose. “Jason, Jason. Now I’ll never be able to date you.”
“Sis, can it!” Tegan hissed. “This is not about you.”
Vanna had the decency to blanch. “I’m sorry. You’re right. Allie, what was he stabbed with?”
“A Clovis spearpoint.”
“What’s that?”
I described it.
“It’s from a collection hanging in Allie’s house,” Tegan explained.
“What?” Vanna’s eyes widened. “It’s yours?”
“The previous owners who sold my parents the house were collectors,” I explained. “My parents bought it furnished.”
“And the killer stole one from you?” Vanna shook her head, incredulous. “Who knew you had a collection?”
“Lots of people.”
“What else do the police have?” Tegan asked.
“Detective Bates recovered a Celtic knot earring from under the foyer table. Zach theorized that Jason and I fought, and my earring fell off in the scuffle. I’m not convinced it’s mine, but it could be.
” I positioned the canisters of sugar and flour by the mixing bowls and began to measure out the amounts for the cookies first. “Remember how I lost one a week ago, while making deliveries?”
Tegan jumped on that. “What if the killer got his hands on it and planted it at the crime scene to frame you?”
“Exactly what I think.”
“Meaning the killer would’ve needed to see you lose it,” Vanna said.
“It’s a safe bet, but why set me up?” I asked. “Who hates me so much?”
“As far as I know, only my sister has it in for you.” Tegan smirked. “Are you the killer, Vanna?”
Vanna stuck her tongue out.
“What other clues did you notice?” Tegan asked.
I fished my cell phone from my purse and opened the Photos app.
I showed them some of the pictures I’d taken—not of Jason’s body, of course—gave them a recap of what I’d noticed, and told them that I’d theorized Jason was reaching for his phone because he’d mumbled the syllable Duh and the word she right before he died.
“He might have wanted me to reach out to his ex-fiancée, Delilah.”
Vanna said, “How heartbreaking.”
“Hey.” Tegan raised a finger. “What if she’s in town, and she killed him?”
I hadn’t considered the possibility. “Why would she? I mean, she’s married. Happily, he told me.” Actually, he hadn’t said she was happy, simply that she’d married well. Why had she and Jason broken up? Had she ended it before meeting her husband, or had he been the catalyst?
“In The Great Gatsby Daisy came to him when bidden,” Tegan said. “It was the beginning of their downfall.”
I revisited Patrick taunting Jason, saying even if he built the mall, she wouldn’t come—she meaning Delilah. Why would Jason have believed she would?
I texted Zach and asked if he’d reached out to her. To my surprise, he reminded me immediately that it wasn’t my investigation. Snarky, I groused to myself and didn’t give him the pleasure of a reply.
Vanna took my phone and clicked on the Photos app. She gasped. “Is this him? Dead?”
I snatched the phone back. “Sorry. My bad.” I’d forgotten I’d captured a few shocking images. On the other hand, she’d been the curious cat.
“What’s the mud from?” she asked.
“I think Jason might have gone outside to look at the night sky, seen the killer, and raced through the moist gardens to escape.” I tapped a spoon on the rim of a bowl. “The texts.”
Tegan squinted. “Huh?”
“Zach didn’t believe Jason texted me, because they were erased from my phone, but I didn’t remove them.”
“Jason must have deleted the thread,” Vanna suggested.
“Zach said it was impossible. Unfortunately, we couldn’t open Jason’s phone to see how anything might have happened.”
“Look at us”—Tegan motioned to the group—“theorizing like we’re Allie’s clue crew.”
“Clue crew?” Vanna scoffed.
Tegan offered a sly smile. “I heard the term on a kids’ TV show—clue crew. Hey, we could make it go viral. Hashtag”— she mimed the number sign—“AlliesClueCrew. No apostrophe. The three words smooshed together. What do you think?”
“Be serious.”
“I’m deadly serious.”
When the baking was done, Vanna and I packed up everything in white pastry boxes with Dream Cuisine’s signature sage-green labels, and she and I headed off in separate directions. She would focus on Bramblewood deliveries. I would drive to Montford, specifically to the Blue Lantern.
After Noeline had purchased the bed-and-breakfast, she’d fixed it up to be one of the best inns in the area.
It was designed in the Gothic Revival style, a variation of the Victorian architectural style, with steeply pitched roofs and lancet windows.
The peacock-blue exterior color was a lovely contrast to the extravagant white vergeboard trim along the roof.
Multiple lanterns hung from shepherd’s hooks.
The springtime azaleas had shed their flowers, allowing summer blooms like petunias, zinnias, and black-eyed Susans to shine.
The temperature was still cool, so I left Darcy in his carrier in the van, a window open, and told him I’d return soon. Then I carried the box of poppy-seed muffins into the inn.
Helga, clad in her pale blue uniform fitted with broad white lapels and white cuffs, stopped dusting the foyer furniture and fixed me with a frown. “What is in the box?”
“Muffins. For the workmen. Where are they?”
“Allie, I can bake very well.”
“But you wouldn’t want to give them free muffins and cut into Noeline’s profits, would you?”
Helga chuffed. “You are incorrigible.”
“So my parents tell me.”
“Mr. Hardwick is in the office.” She waggled her feather duster. “The others, I do not know.”
I blew her a kiss and traipsed down the hall. “Yoo-hoo.” I rapped on the office doorframe and peeked in.
Like the guest rooms, the office was decorated in white and blue, its wallpaper featuring antique lanterns, but it appeared Noeline was making a serious change.
The bookcases that lined the walls had been removed, and all the furniture pieces were covered with tarps.
Patrick was facing the far wall, removing remnants of whatever had affixed the bookcases to the wall with an electric sander.
He didn’t hear me enter, because he was whistling along to a recording of “Boulevard of Broken Dreams,” a classic rock song by Green Day.
I knocked again. “Patrick!”
He switched off the sander, shoved his goggles on top of his head, and closed the app playing the music on his phone. “Morning.” The sleeves of his work shirt were rolled up, exposing his massive forearms. His chinos were covered with dust.
“I’ve got treats,” I announced.
“Wow. Cool.” He accepted the box of goodies from me. “You’re a saint. I didn’t have time to swing by Ragamuffin. Sorry for the mess.”
“Doesn’t bother me. I’m not staying here. Where’s your crew?”
“Two are on a break. My project manager is outside with Noeline.” He hooked his thumb over his shoulder. “In addition to revamping the kitchen, she wanted to discuss adding a gazebo in the yard.”
I noticed a sizable scratch on his forearm. It wasn’t bleeding, but it was caked with blood. “Whoa. Pretty nasty scrape. Do you need a bandage?”
“Nah. It’ll heal naturally. Got it when I went caving last night.”
“Caving?”
“I went to Linville Caverns to see bats.”
The subterranean, four-thousand-square-foot site, located deep inside Humpback Mountain in the Pisgah National Forest, was one of North Carolina’s most mysterious attractions. Visitors had to hike down about thirteen hundred feet to view it. I’d visited once. On a tour.
“A bat scratched you?” I pointed at his arm.
He guffawed at my shocked expression. “Nah. The bats didn’t do this.
Don’t worry. I’m not gonna get rabies or anything, and I’m not turning into a vampire anytime soon.
I slipped on a rock.” He lowered his voice.
“Please don’t tell anyone I was there. Between you and me, it’s against regulations to sneak into the caverns at night, because it’s dangerous, but I like a challenge.
I get a real rush being in touch with nature in the pitch dark.
Bats don’t mind someone going solo. They’re much friendlier one on one. ”
“Friendlier?” I shivered. Bats gave me the creeps.
Sure, they didn’t attack people. Usually, they swooped in because they were pursuing a bug, and apparently, they ate their body weight in insects each night, according to the tour guide.
But their screeching could send fear spiraling down my spine.
“When did you become interested in them?”
“My dad and me, we researched them. Learned their habits. I didn’t like living on a farm much, but we had bats, so I stuck around.”
“Allie!” Noeline rushed into the room, looking like a model in a Town & Country magazine—ecru shirt, tan chinos, her hair secured by a bandanna, her makeup understated.
“Tegan contacted me. She said you were on your way here, and Helga said—” She crossed to me and hugged me.
“I’m so sorry you had to see another dead body. ”
“Dead,” Patrick said. “Who’s dead?”
“Jason Gardner,” Noeline replied over her shoulder.
“What? Whoa.” Patrick ran a hand along the side of his head. “Really? I was supposed to meet with him today.”
“You?” I freed myself from Noeline and regarded Patrick.
“He wanted me to do some repairs to the back porch of his estate before his gala event. You know, shore up everything to prevent accidents.”
“He doesn’t own the place.”
“The owner gave him permission.”
“And he hired you?” I asked, incredulous.
“Why is it hard to believe?” Noeline asked.
“Patrick and Jason were at the bookshop yesterday,” I said, “and he accused Jason of doing some shoddy work, and they—”
“We made amends.” Patrick ran his callused fingers through his hair.
“When I ran into him at town hall later, clearer heads prevailed. I apologized and told him I was out of line and said I’d be happy to work with him on any project.
He told me to stop by the estate today.” He whistled with wonder.
“He’s dead? What happened? Did he have a heart attack, Allie? ”
“He was stabbed in the back.”
“Geez!” popped out of him. “He was murdered? Who did it?”
I shook my head. “The police don’t know yet.”
“That bites.” Patrick lowered his gaze.
I noticed mud on his boots for the second day in a row. “Were the caves wet?” I gestured to the shoes.
“Yeah.” He tilted the toe of his right foot up, as if inspecting it. “There’s always water leaking somewhere. It can be a muddy mess. Why?”
“No reason.”