Maple Mayhem (A Sugar Grove Mystery) (13 page)

“Is it my dad?” Phoebe’s already pale face lightened a few extra shades as any blood rushed to her vital organs. I knew that feeling, too. The one where your mind blanks, then your pulse races and your hands go all tingly as you think of all the terrible things that could have happened all in the space of a breath. Stress at that level is the ultimate warper of time. You think you conjured up absolutely every possibility for grief and you did it in a single second.

“I’m sorry, it is.” Phoebe moved like she was going to go into the sugarhouse. I grabbed her arm. “You don’t want to go in there.”

“If he’s hurt, he needs me.”

“Phoebe, you can’t help him. He’s gone.” I couldn’t bring myself to say the word
dead
to her. It was so final, and so cruel.

“What do you mean gone?” Her pale blue eyes filled with tears.

“I found him in the sugarhouse. It looked like someone must have hit him on the back of the head with something hard.” I didn’t want to go into the details of the dent or the loose bits of clinging bark in the wound. She would be upset enough without having a gruesome image stuck in her mind’s eye. I was going to have a hard enough time with it myself when I tried to sleep that night and I really didn’t even like Frank. My father’s death had been swift and not the result of violence and it still made me sick to think about him dying all alone in his sugar bush, his heart squeezing away and giving out long before his time.

“Oh no! It must have been Mindy. Or Kenneth Shaw. They both hated his guts. Dad told me about Mindy screaming about her Squirrel Squad yesterday and what would happen if my dad bothered the kids again. I have to tell Mitch. He’ll know what to do.”

Before I could answer, Bob and Cliff came out of the sugarhouse bearing a stretcher. Phoebe took one look at the figure lying on it covered in a sheet and started to wail. Mitch took her in his arms and rocked her back and forth gently like a small child. I couldn’t hear what she said but I could see that he bent close to her ear. She nodded slightly and he released her from his embrace. He led her to the cruiser and held the door open while she slipped inside and slouched down in the front seat. He closed the door and headed for me.

“I’m going to need you to come down for a formal statement. Can I trust you to come into the station of your own accord?” Mitch asked.

“Of course. I’m not going to just run off.”

“You’ve done it before.”

“That was different. You were being petty and Myra told me she would explain about the cruiser.”

“Lowell didn’t leave Myra in charge of the department while he was gone, no matter what she is running around telling people.”

“I bet once she hears about Frank she’ll be glad you are the one with his butt on the line instead of her.”

“Which is exactly why Lowell left me in charge. He knew I’d be up for whatever challenge came my way.” Mitch had the speech down but the way he kept glancing around quickly and shifting his weight from one foot to the other like a recently potty-trained child said he was more nervous than he wanted to admit.

“Are you sure you can handle this on your own? Graham is a police officer, too, you know. I’m sure he’d be happy to help.”

“I don’t need any help. Not from Graham and not from you.” Mitch stopped swaying back and forth and crossed his arms over his chest. Making him mad was the nicest thing I could have done for him. Anger had replaced nerves and he was ready to get down to business, if only to show me how much he didn’t need anyone, especially Graham, to help him out.

“Not even help with Phoebe? I know how good you are with crying women.” Mitch had left me alone in the movie theater on our second date because I had started tearing up when the main character’s horse had to be put down. He was so flustered he had driven off and left me to find my own way home.

“The only woman I’m worried about is you and whether or not you’ll show up at the police station to give a statement.”

I waited in the police station for nearly an hour before Mitch made time to question me. I had no idea if that was to bug me or if he really had other things he had to take care of first. Either way, Myra had plenty of time to go over the grislier bits of Frank’s death and to toss out theories of her own as to how he died.

“My money’s on aliens,” she confessed in a low voice. I assumed it was out of deference to Phoebe and not because she worried about what others thought of her belief in aliens. Myra was a UFO enthusiast who attended a local alien convention every year.

“You think extraterrestrials killed Frank.”

“I do indeed. I think they planted some sort of chip in his head that made him spout all that antigovernment nonsense.”

“But why would they murder him?” I was whispering, too. The whole conversation felt so disrespectful I was becoming queasy just listening to Myra, let alone participating.

“I bet the chip was malfunctioning and they had to dig it out before anyone detected it.”

“You think an alien species that can build a craft and navigate a course into a distant solar system would hit Frank over the head with a piece of firewood to retrieve delicate technology?” Myra bit her lip then changed the subject.

“How’s it going with Mr. Hot Stuff?” Myra raised her voice a bit like she wanted Mitch to hear her.

“I’m sure I don’t know who you mean.” I was getting prim, I could just feel it. You know how when Pinocchio lies his nose grows longer? Well, with me, my posture improves and I feel my buttocks clench and I suck in my cheeks a bit because my lips are pursing like a devout spinster with a mouthful of sauerkraut juice. My voice raised an octave and my fingers itched for something to do like stitching a sampler or tatting a doily. My mother would say the lying stressed me out so much it caused me to revisit a previous incarnation. Or maybe allowed me to channel a long-dead family member with better moral fiber than my own.

I expect if she was right, it was Myrtle Greene, the unmarried sister of the only pastor the family ever boasted. Her strict sense of decorum and behavior befitting a Christian is the stuff of family legend. If you ask me, Myrtle wouldn’t condescend to channel herself in the first place. Such a thing would carry the stink of the occult. But if she did, she’d surely choose to filter through Celadon instead of me. After all, Celadon is the one who teaches Sunday school and I only manage to get to church at all one Sunday in three. I know because my grandparents remind the Saturday night before the third Sunday morning.

“That stud in the outdoorsy gear. You know, the game warden.”

“They’re called conservation officers now.”

“No matter what you call him I’d be happy to let him measure my fish anytime.” Myra is a winker, which makes me uncomfortable at the best of times. But when Myra does it, it takes on a leering, conspiratorial quality that leaves me feeling like a felon. This was not something I needed while sitting in the police station awaiting questioning in a murder investigation. Her eyelids were fleshy and droopy and covered in far too much sunset yellow eye shadow. When she winked it was like a blinking traffic light: Caution, caution! Not to mention if Mitch overheard anything complimentary concerning Graham it might put him in an even more combative mood. I needed to steer the conversation to another topic.

“I’m sure he would trust you to only keep regulation-length fish. After all, you are involved in law enforcement, too.” Reminding Myra of that sometimes slows down the gossip train. Usually it doesn’t, but it was worth a try.

“It’s a good thing you’ve got that other guy chomping away on your bait. With how good Phoebe has been looking lately there isn’t a lot of chance you’ll be turning Mitch’s head your way again.”

“She looked pretty torn up at the house. She and Frank were so close and she was shocked.” At least she seemed to be shocked. Then again, she and Frank had been arguing something terrible when I had stopped in to encourage Frank to join the cooperative in the first place.

“Well, of course she was. Phoebe’s a decent girl. She loved her stepdaddy to pieces. Especially once her mother got so sick there at the end.”

“Phoebe’s had it rough. I hope she and Mitch are happy together.” I meant it, too. If I were entirely honest, like channeling Myrtle Greene honest, I would admit that if Phoebe ended up with a happily ever after it would alleviate some of my guilty conscience about how I’d treated her when we were kids. One thing that prickled in the back of my head though was the possibility that she was dating Mitch just because I had, in the same way she had copied the way I dressed when we were in middle school. I hoped for both their sakes she was dating him because she really enjoyed his company.

“Things seemed like they were really turning the corner for her though before this happened with Frank. With her new hairdo and her wardrobe changes she was looking so nice and acting so much more confident. She’s like a whole new woman.” Myra was right. Phoebe had undergone quite a transformation in the last few months. It had happened slowly enough to not feel like a makeover like you see on television or in a magazine article but in the end the result was the same. Truth be told, Mitch hadn’t shown any interest in Phoebe until recently and it may well have been because of her formerly mousy demeanor and complete lack of style.

“Maybe her new sense of confidence will help her to bounce back from Frank’s death more easily.”

“I hope so. She must’ve spent a fortune on her looks lately. It would be a shame if the expense didn’t end up giving her a lasting boost,” Myra said. I never thought of Phoebe as having a lot of money. She worked part-time at the local confectionery and gift shop in town, Sweet Treats. Her expenses couldn’t be too high living at home, but still, she couldn’t have had a lot of spending money. Retail just doesn’t pay that much. I wondered if Phoebe had been arguing with Frank about money when I saw the shouting match between them. More important, I needed to decide if I should tell Mitch about Phoebe’s argument.

Before I could make up my mind, Mitch popped his head around Lowell’s office door and motioned for me to join him. He shut the door behind me and I was surprised to find myself feeling uncomfortable in Lowell’s office. I had never felt uncomfortable there. Lowell’s office had been like a home away from home for me, since not only had Lowell been the police chief in Sugar Grove all my life, he had been my godfather and dearest family friend all that time, too. For a kid who didn’t get into trouble I had spent an awful lot of time in the police station. It just didn’t feel right seeing Mitch behind Lowell’s desk, especially the way he was looking at me across his steepled hands. I wondered if his posture was part of a course on intimidating body language. If it was, he should have earned an A.

“Tell me why I should believe you didn’t murder Frank.” No beating around the bush for Mitch. He was all business and all cop, which helped me to make up my mind about telling him about Phoebe.

“Did you ask Phoebe the same question?” The stunned look on his face made me feel a little more sure of myself. Now I was at least on an even footing.

“Why would I ask her a thing like that?” He dropped the steepling and gripped the sides of the desk like he was preparing to launch himself at me.

“Family always has a reason to feel sore about something. With no spouse in Frank’s life, a child is a logical next person to investigate.”

“What makes you such an expert?”

“I never said I was. But isn’t there statistically a much greater chance a murder victim is done in by someone close to them. No one would ever say Frank and I were close.”

“I know how to do my job.”

“Since I know I didn’t kill Frank and you seem to think it is possible that I did, I’ll have to disagree with you there. You still ought to ask Phoebe why she was having a roof-raising argument with Frank on Friday morning. Did she happen to tell you about that?”

“What makes you say she was arguing with Frank?”

“I saw them, that’s why.”

“For someone who claims not to be too involved with Frank’s life, you sure seem to be well informed. First Bob Sterling, now Phoebe.”

“I went to Frank’s place on Friday to ask him about my car. When I pulled up Frank and Phoebe were yelling at each other.”

“That doesn’t sound like Phoebe. She never yells. Phoebe’s a real lady, unlike some women I can think of.”

“Don’t you think that makes it all the more suspicious? Frank yelled all the time. You could have used Frank’s voice to blast granite ledge if you wanted to put in a new foundation. Phoebe would have been used to it. It wouldn’t have provoked her.”

“Don’t you think that’s pretty desperate of you, trying to implicate Phoebe? You must really want me back.” Mitch shook his head at me like I was pitiable, like a butterfly with a crumpled wing. I felt myself beginning to boil over. Which is never a good thing. When I get angry I get all blotchy in the face. My voice gets even squeakier and I tend to punch the air with my tiny fists. Really, I look more like a child in the throes of a puberty-fueled fit than an adult woman with a right to be angry.

“It has nothing to do with any prior relationship you may have thought we had. I am never going to be more interested in you than I was when we broke up. Besides, I like Phoebe. I didn’t even want to mention the argument to you but you just bring out the worst in me.”

“Let’s pretend for a moment that I believe you. What do you think the argument was about?” Mitch leaned back in Lowell’s chair and actually flung his feet up onto the desk. I was definitely going to tell Lowell when he got back.

“I don’t know from overhearing anything in particular. Phoebe yelled at Frank for sticking his nose into her business. Frank said she wasn’t appreciating him. She agreed she didn’t appreciate what he was up to and then she stormed off. I’d never seen her act like that before. And she was on the property, too, when I found Frank’s body.” The intercom on the desk squawked and Myra’s nasally smoker’s voice pulsed into the room letting Mitch know Bob Sterling had shown up for his interview and wasn’t happy about being kept waiting. He said he’d be with Bob in a minute.

“You aren’t off the hook yet, Dani, so don’t even think about leaving town.” Mitch pointed at the door. “You’re free to go for now. On your way out tell Bob I’ll see him.” I wasn’t sure how it was that I could simultaneously be both a suspect and a police department employee. I decided I wasn’t and that Mitch could fetch his own suspects. As I reentered the waiting area Bob stopped his pacing and stepped toward me.

“Mitch called me in here to question me because of your tattling. I didn’t have anything to do with what happened to Frank and I have a whole lot better things to do with my time than to be in here answering a bunch of insulting questions because a pip-squeak like you had to offer up opinions on stuff she knows nothing about.” Bob towered over me and I was glad Myra was sitting right there at her desk. At least if Bob decided to rough me up there would be a witness.

“I don’t owe you any favors. I’m in here because I’m a suspect, too. And you were leaving the scene in an awful hurry.”

“There’s no shortage of suspects as far as murdering Frank is concerned. There was no reason to single me out.”

“You were at the scene. It wouldn’t have been right not to mention you leaving like that.”

“What about Knowlton? He was on the scene, too.”

“I didn’t see Knowlton. I only saw you. And Phoebe.”

“Well, I saw him. He was skulking away into the woods just as I arrived. For all I know he killed Frank and then just sauntered off to round up roadkill like nothing ever happened.”

“You said he might have killed Frank. Does that mean you never got to talk to Frank when you were there?”

“That’s right. I pounded on the door until I thought either my hand would break or the door was going to. The only one I managed to rouse was Frank’s damn dog.”

“Was that why you were so angry?”

“Damn right it was. Frank’s truck was sitting right there in plain sight and I was certain he was just not coming to the door because he didn’t want to deal with me.”

“Why didn’t you go into the sugarhouse like I did if you were so hot to talk with him?”

“Because I’ve got better sense than you. No one pokes their nose around on Frank’s property without an invitation. And no one gets an invitation. I had no desire to find myself at the business end of Frank’s rifle. He hasn’t been exactly quiet about his enthusiasm for the stand-your-ground legislation.”

“Or maybe you did go into the sugarhouse and fixed your boundary-dispute problem once and for all.”

“You just had better hope you and your whole family have no need for an ambulance anytime soon. If I’m the one on duty, I might just have my radio turned down when that call comes in.” Bob shoved me out of the way with a large square hand and hurried to Mitch.

*   *   *

Back home once more I just wanted to reach out to someone I loved in order to talk over the chaotic events of the day. Luckily for me, the house is full of family. Usually, I was more likely to be looking for a quiet spot to gather my own thoughts than to engage, but when I needed to talk to someone I was spoiled for choice. I popped my head into the barn looking for Grampa but he wasn’t around. I toyed with the idea of wandering up into the sugar bush to see if he was there but then decided the person I really wanted to talk to was my older brother, Loden.