Much Ado About Muffin (19 page)

“That doesn't seem to be a huge deal,” I said, to encourage him.

“I know, right?” He turned to me, his narrow face holding an eager expression. “So I used some gas, took off for a while, right? But you'd think I'd, like, killed someone or something.”

He didn't seem to consider his words in light of Minnie's death, which meant he didn't consider much of anything he said, probably.

“It turned into a pretty big argument?”

His eyes widened. Did he see the danger? “Nah, not so big.”

Big enough that he left or got kicked out. I didn't want to push too hard yet, so I didn't say it. “How do you get along with Brianna and Logan? I understand Minnie treated you all like family.”

“Yeah, I guess.” He looked glum, shoved his hands back in his pockets and watched as Gordy finished filling the machine and returned the gas can to the garage. Gordy came
back out with a wheelbarrow full of tools. “Brianna was her favorite, probably because she's a girl. I liked Brianna at first, but she didn't help me much when Minnie and I got into it. She should keep her effin' nose out of stuff that doesn't concern her.” His tone was dark, his expression furious.

“So you got kicked out after the argument that night. Or did you leave on your own? I've heard both versions.”

He flicked an uncertain glance my way, his blue eyes narrowed. “Whatever. The effin' FBI have been breathing down my neck, and now you?” He shouted to Gordy, “Hey, we getting this done, or what?” He strode toward the other guy, suddenly eager to work. They had a brief discussion.

I approached, picking my way though the weeds. “Gordy, can you fellows start at the far end while Zeke and Pish are recording Roma? He's worried the heavy machinery sound will vibrate through the castle walls.”

“Sure, no problem, Merry,” Gordy said.

“Karl and I were discussing the night he arrived at your place. You told me he said he had stormed out of Minnie's place after an argument, right?”

“That's right,” Gordy said, sweeping his thin hair out of his eyes. “That's what he said.”

I turned to Karl. He looked trapped. “So did you storm out? Or were you kicked out? Brianna said you were kicked out.”

He shrugged again, his favorite answer. “I don't know,” he said finally. “I don't, honest. We were both mad. Maybe I said,
I'm leaving
, and she said,
Get out
, at the same moment.”

That was actually quite possibly the answer to the conflicting stories. The two fellows headed off to the far field, where they would mow and trim the worst of the brush at the edge, working their way back toward the castle. I was definitely going to find out if the car he had used that had started the argument, Minnie's vehicle, was intact or damaged, and if it had been moved from behind the post office,
where I'd last seen it. If he'd killed her and heard I was snooping around, and if he had an extra set of keys, perhaps he'd taken the car, followed me, and tried to run me off the road. It seemed unlikely, but it was possible.

I returned to the kitchen and was doing the breakfast dishes when I got a call from Hannah, who had spoken with Brianna. “How did it go?” I asked. “Did you find anything out?”

“I guess,” she said, sounding uncertain. “She's really broken up about Minnie dying. She lost her mom years ago, and Minnie treated her like a daughter.”

I didn't have the impression she was broken up about it when we spoke, but I was a stranger. She was more likely to show her true feelings to Hannah, a friend. “Did she say what it was like living with Minnie and the two guys?”

“She told me Karl was nice to her at first, but he got bent out of shape when she started dating Logan. And he got worse when Minnie showed a preference for Brianna and Logan.”

“Did she tell you what happened the night Karl was kicked out?” I wondered if her story would stay consistent.

“She said Minnie was angry with Karl and they had a big fight. She said she and Logan stayed out of it.”

“Were you able to work in a question about what she and Logan were doing the morning Minnie was murdered?” Brianna said that she was getting ready for work when she heard, but I wondered what she would tell Hannah.

“Well, uh . . .”

“Hannah?”

“I can't say,” she whispered. “There are other people here!”

“I'm assuming she didn't say they were out killing Minnie.”

“Of course not.”

What would two twenty-something young people be doing once their landlady was out of the house and they
were alone that Hannah didn't feel she could say aloud in . . .
Oh!
I bit my lip, fighting a grin. “Did she tell you that she and Logan were, uh, fooling around? Getting frisky?”

She giggled. “She said it was so rare they were alone, so they did that, and then she jumped in the shower, and that's when the police came.” Her tone sobered. “She said she felt awful when she figured what she was doing while Minnie was being killed.”

That shone a new light on her alibi. When Brianna told me she was in the shower when the police came the first thing I thought of was, the killer would need to clean up after the bloodbath that poor Minnie had suffered. But her explanation to Hannah sounded legit, though who would know other than her and Logan? “You went to school with the young woman who works for Andrew Silvio, right?”

“Chrissie, his secretary,” she said. “She's one of my best friends. She comes in to the library all the time for those lives-of-the-rich-and-famous novels, like Jackie Collins and even old ones, like Judith Krantz and Harold Robbins.”

Chrissie had helped us with information once, last year, but it was minor stuff. “Is she up for a little skulduggery?”

Hannah paused a beat, then softly said, “Merry, I don't think I can ask her to do any digging in Mr. Silvio's files. I wouldn't want to get her in trouble. It's a good job, and they're hard to find.”

“Fair enough. Actually, I have one question, something that will be a matter of public record soon anyway. How about, if she's up for it, fine, but if she's the slightest bit uncomfortable, drop it?”

“I'm guessing it's something to do with Minnie's will, since you said it will be public record soon.”

“Exactly. Who inherits her house and any money? I actually may already know the answer. Deputy Urquhart says he and his brother do. He ought to know, but I heard she was in
to talk to the lawyer about her will before she died. There is something else, though: I don't know if Chrissie can help us, but Minnie was having her house evaluated lately, and said she wanted to fix it up to make it worth something. Why?”

“You know, Minnie wasn't well liked,” Hannah said. “But she did have a couple of friends, and I happen to know one who comes into the library all the time. She's kind of mean, and she talks about everyone behind their backs, but she probably knows more about what Minnie was up to than anyone else. I
could
call her.”

I had qualms. “Hannah, maybe that's not a good idea.”

“Tell you what,” she murmured softly. “If I can think of a reason, I'll call her. If not, I won't. Either way, I'll talk to you later. I have to go.”

I threw the ingredients for a hearty stew into the slow cooker, hoping it wasn't too hot outside for that. I longed for cooler weather, for fall to truly arrive. At dinner I was going to feed, besides Pish, Roma, and myself, the three young men, and their appetites were sure to be heartier than ours.

While I did that I made some notes, then made a call to San Diego, worldwide headquarters for Consciousness Calling. I had a fascinating conversation with a peppy West Coast type, and gave her information that was appreciated. I was set to be the spoiler in Emerald's big plans for wealth, which I would feel bad about if her plan had any shot in hell of coming true. Sometimes being a good friend means making difficult decisions, or at least that's what we tell ourselves for comfort when we do something of which we're not quite sure.

I also made platters of sandwiches and pickles, and a couple of big pitchers of iced tea, sticking it all in the huge commercial fridge. I left a note telling them all to help themselves. I could no longer wait to find out what was wrong with Shilo. She would, one way or another, tell me what was
up. Garbed in town-worthy shorts and a sleeveless tunic top, I grabbed my keys and purse and left the castle. I shaded my eyes and looked off into the distance; Gordy and Karl were working, making slow but steady progress. It was going to take more than one day to whip the property back into shape.

The Caddy purred to a start, and I drove into town. Since being run off the road I had been a little tight-gripped on the wheel and excessively watchful, but it was likely, as I had conjectured, that my mishap was the result of some drunken jerk or joyriding kid.

I paused at Binny's to pick up fresh bread to go with the stew, though I'd probably make biscuits, too. Patricia was all atwitter; Dewayne had called and they were going to a movie in Batavia the next night. She slyly asked me about Virgil, but I wasn't biting. I strolled back to where I had parked my car, outside of Emerald's shop. She looked up from what she was doing, saw me, and stormed out, slamming the door behind her. She stood on the sidewalk and glared at me. “So now because of you Lizzie has gone to live with my mother.”

“Because of
me
?” I took it in. “When did this happen?”

Emerald folded her arms across her chest, her eyes glittering with tears. “Yesterday morning. I was here to meet a delivery, as you well know. It was supposed to come early, and I waited all freakin' day. I guess she had a fight at home with Crystal and left. I thought she was at school, but they called yesterday afternoon about something. I said to ask Lizzie, and they told me she wasn't at school. She was listed as off sick.”

“So where is she?”

“Like I said, my mom's place. She won't even come to the phone.”

“So how is this
my
fault?”

She shook her head, her mouth trembling. “I don't know what to do.”

“I'll text her and go talk to her,” I said, digging my phone out of my purse. “She'll listen to reason.”

She waved her hand, then knuckled her nose, sniffing. “She doesn't have her phone with her.”

“Since when?”

“That's what they argued about yesterday morning. Crystal was trying to get Lizzie to pay attention, so she took away her phone. Lizzie got all bent out of shape and stormed off to my mother's place, and didn't go to school.”

I stood very still, staring down at the sidewalk, examining the cracked concrete. I looked up. “Em, the morning that Minnie died, where were you?”

“At home,” she said with a frown. “Why?”

“So, to clarify: you, Crystal, and Lizzie were home having breakfast?”

“No, I mean, me and Lizzie were. Crystal was meditating.”

“In her room?”

“No, she does sunrise meditations somewhere,” Emerald said, her expression puzzled.

“Where is that?”

“I don't know,” she said with an impatient tone. “Crystal has to live with a noisy, nosy teenager; the woman needs privacy sometimes.”

A prickling sensation down my back that started at the nape of my neck made me shiver. Crystal had Lizzie's phone and was the one who answered my text, saying they were all together that morning. If I hadn't asked Emerald I would never have figured that out. Why would Crystal lie about it?

I could think of one very good reason.

“Em, the other night when I left, and Lizzie stormed off, you and Crystal stayed at the shop, right?”

“Sure . . . well, kind of. I mean, with a homicidal maniac on the loose Crystal was worried; she kindly offered to follow Lizzie to make sure she got home all right.”

“Crystal spoke to her?”

“No, she knew that would cause a giant fight. She followed Lizzie home, then came back.”

“How long was she gone?”

“I don't know; awhile.” Emerald looked watchful, alert. “Merry, where are you going with this?”

I couldn't say anything yet. “Nowhere. Em, why are you blaming me for Lizzie going to your mom's? Isn't that Crystal's fault?”

She looked sulky, an expression reminiscent of Lizzie at her worst. Arms crossed over her chest, hugging herself, she looked off down the street. “Crystal says the phone is a symbol.
You
gave it to her, after all. She says you're trying to usurp my parental authority. Lizzie listens to you more than me. She's always mad at me lately, and then you come waltzing back into her life from exotic Spain—”

“Em, it's not like that!” I hesitated, wanting to do more convincing, but I had an urgency about other things—Shilo in particular—and this conversation deserved more than simply bickering on the sidewalk. Folks were coming along, more than one lingering and listening in. In Autumn Vale if you talk about it at ten
AM
, by ten thirty everyone in the town will know what you said. I reached out and touched her arm, smiling at people who were passing, trying not to appear as if we were in the middle of an urgent talk. “Emerald, can we talk about this another day? I miss our friendship. I
hate
this feeling that I'm somehow on the wrong side of things, and you know how I feel about Lizzie. Can we get together and talk? Soon?”

“Maybe,” Emerald said. Crystal was approaching down the sidewalk, and I saw Em's eyes flick to her. “I . . . I have to go. I have to get a ride out to work later today.”

“Why? What's wrong with your car?”

“In the shop. It's acting up. Crystal offered to have it fixed, so we're hoofing it for now.”

I was stunned into silence. Crystal motioned to Emerald, and they went into the shop together. What exactly was wrong with the car, I wondered, and since when? Many,
many
things were coming to a head and would explode—or implode—in the next few days. I had a lot to figure out if I wanted to manage the explosion so it wouldn't hurt anyone I cared about.