Read Going Organic Can Kill You Online
Authors: Staci McLaughlin
Going Organic Can Kill You (26 page)
Uh-oh. Sheila and Christian hadn’t been exactly subtle, but I didn’t think Gordon had caught on to their relationship yet. Sheila had enough trouble with a dead ex-husband. No need to pile on the guilt by getting her boyfriend fired.
“Christian and Sheila are only friends,” I said.
Gordon frowned. “Who said anything about Sheila? I’m talking about Tiffany.”
I jerked my head back. “You’re mistaken.”
“I’ve seen the way Tiffany bats her little fake eyelashes at Christian. And he’s practically drooling on his yoga mat. Don’t tell me there’s nothing going on.”
I started to protest more, but stopped. If Gordon wanted to believe Christian had hooked up with Tiffany, just as I had for a while, that’d keep him from discovering Christian’s real relationship with Sheila.
“Too bad Tiffany left,” I said. “Now you’ll never catch them in any hanky-panky.”
“He’ll have an affair with a new guest. He’s got that reputation. And I’ll catch him. I know they meet at that elm tree.”
So Gordon knew about the tree. Had he found the underwear under the bench, too?
The proverbial light bulb lit up in my head, at 100-watt power.
“I know what you’ve been doing, you big pervert,” I said. The look of panic that flitted across Gordon’s face was all the confirmation I needed.
I’d discovered Gordon’s dirty little secret.
27
“What the hell are you talking about?” Gordon demanded. “Just what do you think you know?”
“That you’ve been spying on that lover’s bench. It’s how you saw the ambulance at Queenie’s trailer.” I said.
“Why do you keep harping on that?”
I pointed a finger at Gordon and prayed he didn’t bite it off. “When you barged onto Queenie’s property after her death, you said you’d seen the emergency crews from the hot springs. But you couldn’t have. You were lurking around the bench, trying to catch Tiffany and Christian doing the deed.”
Gordon adjusted the knot on his tie. “You make it sound so seedy.”
Was that a confession? “Why lie?”
Gordon balled his hands into fists and I thought about ducking under the table. “I don’t think you appreciate all that I do for this spa. See how you immediately called me a pervert?” He pulled at his tie so hard this time, I worried about his ability to breathe. “I’m running a business here, and I won’t tolerate rule-breakers. You shouldn’t either,” Gordon said. “I want this farm to succeed. The minute you lower your guard, employees slack off, don’t dedicate themselves to the work.”
“Most people are more reliable than you give them credit for,” I said.
“Not in my experience. If I let Christian sleep with one guest, pretty soon, he’ll sleep with them all. And his affairs will harm the spa’s reputation.” He flipped his notebook closed. “I’ve got to meet some suppliers about the linens, then see about a quote for the hot springs. When Zennia gets here, let her know we’re down to one guest for dinner.”
He went into the house. A few minutes later, I saw his car drive away as I brushed crumbs off the picnic table. With Gordon gone, I was alone at the farm. At least until Zennia arrived. The mention of the hot springs reminded me that Esther had asked me to clean it, but first I’d use the brief alone time to hash out some marketing plans.
I walked into the house, noting the silence, and stopped at the kitchen sink for a glass of water. I’d never been in the house when it was empty, and the quiet made my skin prickle.
“Dana!”
With the glass to my lips, I jerked at the sound, water sloshing out the sides and wetting my face.
In the doorway, Heather held a pile of folded towels, her thin legs poking out the bottom of her cut-off jeans. Her long brown hair hung loose, framing her wan face. She handed me a towel and I blotted my face.
“Sorry,” she said. “I didn’t think anyone else was here. This place is so spooky with all the guests gone.”
“Have you had a chance to talk to Esther? We had a staff meeting yesterday about how she’s going to run the farm until things improve.” The new hours and cut wages would no doubt affect Heather, raising those kids on her own.
Heather leaned against the door frame. “Saw her this morning. She explained about the half days. I’d have been at that meeting except I had a custody hearing.”
“How’s that going?” With Heather’s ex trying to label her an unfit mother, even a hint that Maxwell thought she’d tried to steal the necklace could have caused big trouble for Heather during the hearing. She’d ended up telling the detective about the misunderstanding, but she must have been worried when Maxwell first threatened to report her. Worried enough to kill him?
I studied her twig-like arms, much like Tiffany’s. She looked too weak to plunge a knife into a grown man, but sometimes killers got lucky and hit the right spot on the first try. But why kill Queenie? Heather was no golden-haired temptress. But she could be the person Queenie saw spill blood.
“Over for now,” Heather said, snapping me out of my ghoulish musings. “I wasn’t sure which way the judge was leaning, with my stupid ex lying about me, but the court ruled in my favor. Even got me good child support. That’ll come in handy now that our hours have been cut.”
“I’m glad everything worked out for you,” I said. “Guess that whole incident with Maxwell and the necklace didn’t matter after all.”
Heather scowled. “Maxwell was a jerk. We don’t need people like that around here.”
She might want to keep those statements to herself. People might think she was glad to see Maxwell dead.
Heather’s hand shot out from under the towels and she touched my arm. “Esther told me you were the one who found Queenie,” she said. “How’re you doing?”
“I’m coping.” What was the appropriate response? If I said I was fine, I’d seem cold and heartless. If I admitted to a constant state of uneasiness, I’d look weak.
Heather used her free hand to tuck her long hair behind her ear. “I just hope this doesn’t mean the end for Esther and the spa. Even with my ex paying support, I need the money.”
She wasn’t the only one. Half days wouldn’t provide enough for me in the long term.
“I’m keeping my fingers crossed,” I said. “But speaking of income, guess I’d better earn mine.”
Heather went into the laundry room while I turned into the office. For half a second, I considered locking the door. I hadn’t ruled out Heather as the killer yet, even if her motive was weak. But if I started locking office doors, where would the paranoia end? Would I be afraid to eat Zennia’s food in case it was poisoned? Well, Zennia’s food already gave me the willies.
I was halfway through a brochure that even Gordon would be impressed with when I heard a car engine followed by two doors slamming. Had Zennia brought a friend to work?
I saved the file and cut through the lobby to the parking lot. Sheila and Kimmie were stepping onto the sidewalk. Oh, joy.
“Dana, hi,” Kimmie said, a bulging bag hanging off her arm.
“You two out shopping?” I asked.
“I told Sheila she needed a girls’ day to take her mind off these murders.”
Sheila held up her own shopping bag. “We drove to Santa Rosa this morning and hit the downtown mall. So many wonderful shops.”
“I’d have bought more, but my trunk’s full as it is.” Kimmie placed a hand on Sheila’s arm. “We really shouldn’t talk about shopping in front of Dana, here. Not everyone has as much money as we do.”
This woman was too much. I crossed my fingers behind my back in preparation of my lie. “Working at the spa provides me with plenty of shopping money, thank you. No need to worry about me.”
“Just trying to be thoughtful. My dear husband always says I’m much too nice.”
He probably said that after five shots of whiskey and with a hint of sarcasm, but that was only a guess on my part.
“Come on, Kimmie, you can help me cut the tags off my new clothes,” Sheila said.
“And after that, we can find that boyfriend of yours. Last time I was here, I asked him about the various branches of yoga, but he never got around to answering me. I’d love to find out more.”
“And then you can stay for dinner,” Sheila said. “Bye, Dana. Have a good night.”
Zennia pulled into the parking lot as the two women walked away. I waited for her to park and join me on the sidewalk. She carried a reusable grocery sack.
“How’s the farm today?” she asked.
“Tiffany left this morning, so Sheila’s our last guest. But she’s bringing a friend to dinner tonight, so you’ll be cooking for two.”
“Better than cooking for none.” She held up the bag. “Did you want to stay as well? It’s tofu taco night.”
I froze my face before I could wrinkle my nose. “Thanks, but I’m going to clean the hot springs and take off. How about next time?”
Actually, I was pretty sure I’d never eat tofu tacos.
“Suit yourself,” Zennia said as she disappeared inside the house.
I walked around the side to the tool shed and grabbed the pool net, accidentally pulling down a weed whacker and broom that were hanging on the wall. With a curse, I repositioned the tools and dug around until I found a trash bag.
The walk to the springs left me hot and sticky. The trees blocked out the sun, but the branches trapped the humidity. By the time I reached the turnoff and fought my way through the bushes, I was covered by a thin layer of sweat and dust. I brushed an oak leaf that clung to my arm onto the ground and stared at the overheated water, which only increased my glum state. If I was in the mood for a cup of lukewarm tea, the water would be perfect, but in this heat, all I wanted right now was a nice glass of an ice-cold beverage.
I dropped the pool net on the ground, then bent down to open the trash bag top. My cell phone fell from my shirt pocket and landed with a thunk. Grumbling, I opened the bag, stuck my phone back in my pocket, and leaned over to retrieve the net. Plunk. What was this? An old Carol Burnett skit? I slid the phone partway in my pocket, then looked at the hot springs. Warm water was probably not as beneficial for a cell phone as for clogged pores. I set the phone by a tree and swept the net over the water’s surface.
Leaves, twigs, and dead insects gathered in the net and I dumped them into the trash bag. Two more passes, and I was finished. With the net still in one hand, I picked up the trash bag with the other and made my way to the trail. I had to stop once to remove the trash bag from a branch that had punched straight through the plastic. Esther had a lot of work before the hot springs would be ready for guests. Who knew what my role in clearing and building would be.
After wrestling with the plastic bag, I emerged on Chicken Run Trail and walked back to the house. My shirt stuck to my back, leaves clung to my arms, and a mosquito buzzed in my ear. First thing I was going to do when I got home was take a shower.
At the back of the house, I dumped the leaves and twigs on the compost pile, put the net and empty trash bag in the shed, and stopped in the kitchen for a drink of water. As I walked toward the office, I could hear Kimmie and Sheila chatting in the dining room with Zennia, who was explaining how tofu was made. I updated my time card and walked out of the house without stopping to say hi. No need for Kimmie to see me all sweaty and dirty. She might not recognize real work when she saw it.
At home, I waved to Mom in the kitchen and headed straight to the bathroom, where I washed the day’s grit from my body. That done, I towel-dried my hair, donned fresh clothes, and returned to the kitchen.
“Need help with dinner?”
“No, almost done with the barley. We’ll eat as soon as your sister gets home.”
I sat down at the counter and sorted through the day’s mail. Nothing for me, but no bills for Mom with flaming red letters on the envelope either. “How was bunco?”
“Not bad. Of course, as soon as Judith offered me condolences, Betty took up half the time talking about how much she missed her Harold.”
“Did he pass away recently?”
Mom stirred the barley. “At least twenty years ago, but give her any opening, and she’ll bring up his death. The next gathering should be better.”
Guess she was going back. One small step in the healing process.
Ashlee burst into the house in her work smock, never one to make a subdued entrance. “Dana, guess what.”
“You met another ex-con today. You’re eloping.”
“Ha, ha, you’re so funny. Maybe I won’t tell you how I ran into Jason down at Get the Scoop.”
My heart sped up, but I tried for casual. “So you talked to Jason.”
“He mentioned the film festival over in Mendocino tomorrow and said he’d be calling to ask if you’re available.”
I tried to stifle my grin. No need for Ashlee to know how goopy Jason made me feel. But a movie or two, a long walk on the beach, a romantic candlelit dinner. All the elements of a cheesy personal ad. Or an intimate evening with Jason.
I must not have hid my excitement because Ashlee clapped her hands.
“You like him, you like him.”
I half-expected a crack to appear in the sliding glass door from her high-pitched squealing.
“Stop. Now.” But inside, I was jumping up and down.
Ashlee glanced at her smock, where a fine layer of cat hair covered the front. “Let me change, then we’ll figure out what you should wear.”
“Who says I’m even going?”
“Oh, please. You’re so going.”
She was right. If Jason asked, I’d say yes.
Ashlee returned a moment later in shorts and a tank top. She studied the surface of the counter near my elbow. “Where’s your cell phone? He might call any minute.”
“Relax. I have voice mail. We’re about to eat.”
“Actually,” Mom said, holding up a wooden spoon. “The barley is taking longer to cook than I expected. You have time.”
Ashlee punched me lightly on the arm. “Go get your phone.”
I hopped off the barstool. “Fine, I left it in my shirt pocket.”
In the bathroom, I lifted the hamper lid, found my shirt still on top of the dirty clothes stack, and felt around the pocket. No familiar lump. I reached into the pocket in denial, but the space was empty. I dropped the shirt on the floor and felt around the other clothes in the hamper. No phone.
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