The Pickled Piper (10 page)

M
r. Laseter took off, but before Piper had a chance to discuss with Tina the interesting tidbit he'd dropped, Dennis Isley pushed his way into the coffee shop, wearing the same stained denims as before, which, from the whiff Piper caught, may not have been off his lanky frame since then.

“Hey, Tina!” he called, while giving Piper a blatant once-over. “I've been working hard patching old Mr. Perkins's roof. I need a cold drink.” He winked at Piper, who decided it was time to take off.

As she turned to say so to Tina, she noticed a pained look on the shop owner's face as she loaded ice into a tall, take-out cup, and hoped that didn't signal another of Tina's headaches coming on. At least Dennis wouldn't be hanging around. What a shame, Piper thought only half seriously, that Tina was able to give Dennis an alibi for Friday night.

When she stepped out the coffee shop door, Piper spotted Charlotte Hosch standing halfway up the block, apparently venting her complaints of the day to a younger—and obviously very patient—woman. Not caring to provoke a headache of her own, Piper turned in the opposite direction to circle the block.

Once she'd rounded the corner and was out of range of any “Just a minute there, young lady!” calls, Piper relaxed, and she continued on, soon coming upon a small park she'd forgotten existed. It looked invitingly cool, with its bubbling fountain framed with shaded benches. But as Piper drew closer, she spotted a dejected-looking figure sitting on one of the benches. Nate Purdy stared at the ground as his guitar lay silently on his lap.

“I hope you haven't had more misery piled on lately,” Piper said, approaching.

Nate looked up and managed a wan smile. “Nothing I can't handle. I just thought I'd come out here and give my neighbors a rest from listening to me practice.”

“With what you play, I can't imagine they'd really mind.” Piper thought of Alan Rosemont's neighbor, Ralph Farber, having to put up with his bagpipe wheezes and wails, and knowing what she did of Alan, probably not at the best time of day—or night.

“Thanks.” Nate lifted his guitar and dispiritedly plucked out the beginnings of a tune.

“I've been digging up information on other possible murder suspects to pass on to Sheriff Carlyle,” Piper said, hoping to cheer him. “It's early days, but I think he'll pay attention as more things come up. A lot of people are pitching in.”

“That's great of you, trying to help. But that friend of the sheriff's—Ben Schaeffer—really seems to have it in for me, and he has Carlyle's ear. As soon as I've explained away one problem, he comes up with another. He's like one of those terriers convinced a rat is in a hole and just keeps yapping and digging. I don't understand why Schaeffer seems so bent on my being the guilty one.”

“We'll just have to prove Ben wrong,” Piper said. And somehow shake him out of love with Amy, if that was possible. “How would you like a job in that respect?”

“Sure! Anything.”

“You could check out Alan Rosemont's next-door neighbor, who might have been driven to murder by Alan's incessant piping.”

“Who wouldn't?” Nate said with a grin. “What's his name?”

“Ralph Farber.” Piper pulled out the smartphone that Scott had talked her into getting, and that she hadn't yet totally mastered. She started a search on Ralph Farber, muttering a bit over one or two missteps before crying, “Aha! Got it!” She whipped a sheet of notebook paper out of her purse. “Here's his address,” she said, scribbling. “And, let me see . . .” She tapped a few more times. “Oh! Ralph Farber runs a plumbing business. It's over on Fourth Street.” Piper wrote that down, too.

“I'll try to catch him there,” Nate said. “Better than knocking on his door at home.”

“It'd be great if you learned that he was at the fair late Friday night.”

Nate laughed. “Wouldn't it? And if he'd mention that he happened to bash Rosemont in the head with a lead pipe while he was there, it would be very helpful.”

Piper grinned, happy to see life returning to the musician. “You never know. But just getting a feel for the man and maybe his thoughts about Alan could tell us a lot.”

“I'll see what I can do,” Nate said, packing his guitar into its case.

They took off in separate directions, Piper hoping she'd both turned Nate's worries toward a productive use and that the mission she'd sent him on would in fact produce something positive.

• • •

L
ater that afternoon, Piper was alone in the back room of her shop when her newly installed bell signaled a visitor. She wiped her hands on her apron and hurried out to find Will on the other side of her counter.

“Hi!” Piper said, pleased to see him but also uncomfortably aware of all the recent interest and speculation about the two of them. Had he heard it, too, and come to put an end to it?

To her surprise, though, Will asked, “Are you free tonight?”

Piper hedged. “What did you have in mind?”

“Right,” Will said. “Sorry, I should have explained. I just came from the barbershop.” Piper had thought something was different about him but hadn't put a finger on it. Will, in fact, did that for her, running several fingers through his hair and returning the too-perfect combing to its normal rumpled state.

“Anyway,” he continued, “that's where I picked up on the fact that Nate is on the verge of losing his job at A La Carte.”

“No!”

“'Fraid so. Seems the owner has seen a significant drop-off in business since the murder and thinks Nate might be the cause because of his ‘person of interest' status.”

“That must be why he was so down when I ran into him today. Though he never said a word about it.”

“It's not a done deal, from what I could tell. So I thought maybe if we went there for dinner tonight and also pulled in a few more customers, we could make Nate's boss happy enough to keep him on awhile longer.” Will suddenly looked uncertain. “Or is that a completely lame idea?”

“I think it's a great idea! I'm sure I can get Aunt Judy and Uncle Frank interested. And they could get a few of their friends.”

Will brightened. “I was hoping you'd think so. I'll see if I can spread the word to people I know, and maybe not all for tonight. It'd be good to keep it going for a few more nights.”

“From what Amy told me, A La Carte gets people coming in just for drinks and nibbles later in the evening when Nate is still performing. So everyone doesn't have to spring for an expensive dinner. And that'd be fine with me, too,” Piper said, giving Will an option he might not have thought of.

He smiled. “Dinner works for me, if it does for you. How about I pick you up at seven?”

Piper nodded. “Sounds great,” she said, happy because it really did sound great. Will had come up with a very thoughtful way of helping someone they both believed was being treated unfairly, and in the process she had a pretty nice evening to look forward to.

• • •

A
t six forty-five, Piper was dressed and ready, glad to have avoided the frantic rush of the night before. She'd picked out a summery dress to wear with strappy sandals, and as an afterthought grabbed a light shawl to throw over her bare shoulders if the night—or the restaurant—were cool.

Was this an official date? she wondered as she plopped down onto her sofa. Or was she simply Will's accomplice in his “saving Nate” plan? She sighed, thinking it didn't matter—either way, the Cloverdale townspeople would likely be placing bets on the date of their wedding, as well as the number and names of their future children. Much as she loved Cloverdale, there were times she missed life in the big, anonymous city.

Her doorbell rang, and Piper picked up her purse to meet her date-accomplice-escort, who, it turned out, had slipped a light sports jacket over a polo shirt and slacks. Piper could just hear Amy hooting,
It's a date! It's a date!
which she ignored as she let Will take her hand and walk her to his van.

• • •

T
his was Piper's first visit to A La Carte, at least in its present form. She vaguely remembered that the place had once been an Italian restaurant, but it had changed nationalities and currently offered, according to Amy, country French cuisine.

The front entrance hinted at that with its old-brick façade, blue canopy, and hanging baskets of flowers. Inside, the large space had been made cozy with wood ceiling beams and a brick fireplace presently filled with flowers instead of logs.

As the hostess led the way to a white cloth–covered table, Piper glanced around and saw no sign of Nate, though a small stage was set up against one wall with a microphone and tall stool—a good sign that he was expected. At the moment, soft music floated through a speaker system, and patrons, of which Piper saw a gratifyingly decent number, conversed quietly in keeping with the congenial atmosphere.

“Oh, there's Bill Vanderveen,” Piper said as she took her seat, spotting the man who was Uncle Frank's friend and the one who had pulled Will in to help at the youth group's concession stand. Vanderveen sat with his wife, Gloria. “Did you call him, or did my uncle?” Piper asked.

“Must have been your uncle,” Will said, glancing over the wine list the maître d' had left behind. He looked up. “Is he here with your aunt?”

“I don't see them, but I know they're coming.”

Piper studied her menu for a while, then said with a hint of a smile, “The frog legs look good. What do you think?”

Will lifted an eyebrow, then caught on to the teasing. “Maybe next time,” he said. “If they come with zucchini pickles.”

“I'll have to see what I can do about that.”

They placed their orders, and Will added a bottle of white wine to share, Piper thinking as he did what an upgrade this was from the soda and chips they'd had the night before in the undecorated Christmas farm gift shop. Would there be a third evening out? Piper wondered, then reminded herself she was here for Nate's benefit, not her own. But that didn't mean she couldn't enjoy herself, which so far she definitely was doing.

As their entrées arrived, poached salmon for Piper and filet mignon for Will, Piper spotted Aunt Judy and Uncle Frank walking in with another couple—the Tollivers. Aunt Judy waved brightly before taking her seat at their table for four, and Piper knew they'd join them eventually. She liked seeing Uncle Frank spruced up beyond his usual dungarees, though he appeared a tad uncomfortable and was probably wishing he could have put his feet up in front of the television. Piper felt sure, though, that whatever Amy sent him from the kitchen would change his mind.

Midway through their dinner, the piped-in music cut off, and a male voice introduced the live entertainment “for your dining pleasure.” Nate hopped up to the stage accompanied by a smattering of applause and took his seat behind the microphone. It was a very different Nate from the dejected person Piper had spoken with that afternoon, and she was impressed with his stage presence, which, while low-key, was commanding. Every eye, she saw, was on the musician as forks were set down and elbows leaned on.

Nate began with a genial patter, speaking about French folk music as he strummed soft chords on his guitar and illustrated his words with a couple of simple but charming songs. He then moved on to more modern music.

“He's pretty good,” Will whispered at one point. Piper nodded enthusiastically as she lifted her wineglass for a sip.

More patrons arrived, and Piper saw Megan and Erin join friends at the “drinks and nibbles” tables near the bar. Will and Piper had just been served their coffee when Piper spotted Tina Carson standing at the doorway and looking around uncertainly.

Piper leaned toward Will. “Do you mind if I ask Tina to join us? I called her about coming tonight, and she's alone.”

“Fine with me,” Will said, and Piper caught Tina's eye and waved her over.

“Hi, guys,” Tina said as she slipped gratefully into the chair Will snagged from a nearby table. “Looks like a good crowd showed up.” A waiter appeared at her side, and she ordered coffee and a dessert. Tina had clearly gone to some pains for the evening, with sparkly barrettes in her hair and a pretty lavender tunic and slacks replacing her usual coffee shop garb. Piper thought Tina's face looked a bit drawn, though, and feared she may have dragged the hardworking woman out after a tiring day.

Nate opened his performance to requests, and the first one came from the lively bar area—a shout-out for the Cloverdale High fight song—which drew laughter.

“'Fraid I don't know that one,” Nate said, genially. “Want to sing a few bars for me?”

Two young men who looked like former football players belted out the song together with beer mugs swinging. Nate quickly picked up on the tune and strummed accompaniment, eventually adding his voice to theirs at the final “Fight, Cloverdale, fight,” to much laughter and applause.

That loosened up the crowd considerably, and more requests were called out. Nate honored them, one by one, and Piper was glad to see waiters bustling about, delivering orders for more food and drink. Gradually, the requested songs turned more sentimental, and a few couples grasped hands and leaned a bit closer together. Piper was surprised when Tina suddenly raised her hand and asked for “Deep in My Heart, Dear.” “It's from
The Student Prince
,” she explained, and Nate nodded.

“I always loved that song,” Tina whispered to Piper, “since somebody took me to a performance when I was young.”

Tina didn't seem very old to Piper, but she knew that revivals of
The Student Prince
popped up regularly. The song was sweet and sentimental, and obviously meant something to Tina, since Piper noticed her dab at the corner of an eye during the performance.