The Pickled Piper (19 page)

Piper nodded. “I know.” But how were they going to figure out what that something would be?

P
iper strolled alongside Will. She had called that evening and asked him to come by. “I just need someone to talk to,” she explained, and he'd shown up without questions, which she liked. They headed out on foot toward the Cloverdale Park playground after Will pointed out that it would be vacant in the approaching dusk.

They walked past the small shops and businesses with darkened interiors, including, thankfully, Charlotte's Chocolate's and Confections. Tina's coffee shop showed some light in the rear, indicating that Tina might be doing cleanup or prep for the next day's breakfast menu. Piper hadn't noticed when she and Will began holding hands. Had she reached for his or was it the other way around? Whichever, it felt natural and comforting.

“I'm not sure what I've gotten myself into,” Piper said, getting to what was weighing on her mind. “I thought I was making progress for a while, but now I don't know. I'm afraid I've only been running in circles, maybe making things worse. Nate's livelihood is hanging by a thread, and Amy's nerves are stretched thin. I wanted to help them both, but I haven't done any good whatsoever.”

“Don't sell yourself short. Just knowing you're on their side must make a world of difference to Nate and Amy. And you were Nate's link to Gil Williams—don't forget that. Where would he have ended up otherwise?”

Piper smiled at the thought of Gil, her reclusive neighbor who'd certainly shown he could pull his nose out of a book in a hurry when needed. They arrived at the playground, and Piper wandered over to one of the empty swings and sat down.

“The trouble is, I feel like I've reached a dead end. What I found out isn't enough, not nearly enough, to convince the sheriff to search for someone beyond Nate.”

As Piper set the swing into motion, Will leaned against one of the support poles. “He may be focusing on Nate, but at least he hasn't charged him with anything yet.”

“Only because he doesn't have solid evidence against him. What if the real murderer found some way to incriminate Nate? That's all it would take to get him arrested.”

“Incriminate? How?”

“I don't know.” Piper pushed the swing with one foot. “The murderer might have something with Alan's blood on it. Or a blackmail note from Dennis Isley. All he'd have to do is plant it on Nate.”

“You say ‘he.' You've decided, then, that the killer's a man?”

“It seems logical, doesn't it? Alan's murder required plenty of strength to lift his body into the pickle barrel.” Piper's lips twitched at another thought. “Though Tina sees Charlotte Hosch as the murderer.”

Will smiled. “Well, Charlotte's probably got some muscle on her from stirring all that fudge. Plus, she's never been one to back down from an argument, has she? I know I wouldn't like to run into that woman in a dark alley if I'd ever crossed her.”

Piper grinned. “If she attacked you with her big metal candy spoon, you could always fight her off with your pruning saw.”

“Which I keep handy in my back pocket, of course. Just in case.”

“Or you could simply avoid dark alleys.”

“Better to avoid ever crossing Charlotte Hosch.”

“Probably the wisest course, if not the easiest.” Piper turned her swing, twisting the chains. “You know, the more I think of it, the more Tina's claim makes a certain kind of sense. Except I don't know that Charlotte had any particular reason to kill Alan Rosemont. I'm sure she didn't like him. Nobody seemed to. But that doesn't necessarily lead to murder.”

Piper let the chains unwind, spinning her in circles. When the swing stopped, she sighed. “There I go, down another dead end.” She stood up, swaying dizzily, and Will reached out to steady her.

“Don't worry about it too much. You're doing what you can. You've done great, actually. As a matter of fact,” he said, pulling her closer, “I think
you're
pretty great.”

“Really?”

Piper looked up at Will, ready for what was coming next. Will tightened his hold on her and kissed her, and Piper kissed back. Then she leaned her cheek on his shoulder and gave him a hug. “You really know how to cheer a girl up,” she said against his shirt.

As an answer, Will tilted her chin up and offered more encouragement, which was, Piper decided, exactly what she needed.

• • •

P
iper woke. She'd been dreaming, something about fixing waffles—with cucumbers?—and the waffles had started burning—and—she sniffed and smelled smoke. Real smoke. At the same time she heard loud pounding on her door.

“Piper!” a voice shouted. “Wake up, Piper! Fire!”

Piper sat up like a shot. A look to her back window showed a horrifying sight: black smoke and flashes of light. She froze for a moment, her brain not willing to believe what her senses were telling it. Then it kicked in, telling her to get out! Get out now!

Her first confused, panicky thought was to look around and grab what she could save, but the pounding and shouting at her front door escalated, urging her not to waste time. Barefoot and in flimsy cotton pajamas, Piper ran out of her bedroom, spotted her laptop glittering on a tabletop in the terrible glow from the windows and grabbed hold of it, then ran down the front stairway, fumbling blindly at the lock before flinging open the door.

Nate Purdy stood at her doorstep, hair spiked in every direction but dressed in jeans, T-shirt, and sneakers.

“Thank God! I was ready to break in. I called for help.” As he said it, Piper heard the shriek of sirens. In moments a fire truck roared onto her street, lights flashing.

The rest of the action became a blur. Firefighters spilling from the truck, unwinding a hose, shouting. Someone pulling her away from the building. The hiss of water on flames, more smoke rising from behind her building. Piper clutching the blanket someone had wrapped around her and watching numbly, trying to comprehend all that was going on. What had happened? How could her building have caught fire? What if she hadn't gotten out in time?

That last thought made her shiver despite the blanket that warmed her. She looked around for Nate. He stood several feet away, talking to a uniformed man next to the fire truck. That man left him to meet Sheriff Carlyle, who had just driven up. Nate spotted Piper and came over.

“Thank you,” she said. “I think you saved my life.”

Nate looked as shaken as Piper knew she would feel as soon as reality sank in. “I saw the flash from my window,” he said. “It overlooks the alley. I called you, but all I have is your shop number. You didn't answer.”

“I turn the shop phone off when I close up. Apparently not such a good idea.” What
was
a good idea, Piper realized, was having decided no longer to leave her car in the dark, unprotected alley after the damage that was done to her tires. She glanced down the block to see her trusty hatchback parked on the street and out of harm's way.

“When I couldn't get you I ran out and pounded on your front door. The flames were at the back.”

“And closest to my bedroom.” Piper shuddered. “What caused the fire?”

Nate shook his head, shrugging.

Piper noticed that spectators had gathered beyond the rescue vehicles. Most looked disheveled, dressed in hastily thrown-on clothes after being roused from bed in the middle of the night by sirens. Though they might have been conversing with each other, none of that carried Piper's way above the noise and activity surrounding her. Their seemingly silent gazes projected an air of eeriness intensified by the flashing lights. She scanned the faces, hoping to find a familiar and friendly one.

The first recognizable, though not particularly friendly, face she spotted was Charlotte Hosch's. Piper's gaze quickly moved on. It passed over several people she'd seen around the neighborhood or who'd stopped into her shop. She wished she would see Gil Williams, but the bookstore owner, she knew, lived several miles from his shop.

Piper's search stopped at sight of a tall man at the rear of a clump of spectators. Gordon Pfiefle. What was he doing here? Gordon and Lyella's house, while within walking distance, was still too far away to have heard the commotion. Or was it? Piper suddenly had a frightening thought, and she examined the crowd more carefully.

There! She spotted Ralph Farber, standing at the far edge. Did she imagine it, or did the plumber see her looking at him and turn away? What was going on? Was Robby Taylor there as well? Or his mother, Dorothy?

Piper heard her name called and turned.

“Piper!” Aunt Judy was pushing through the crowd toward her, followed closely by Uncle Frank. “Piper, are you all right?”

Piper rushed toward her aunt. Uncle Frank caught up, and both hugged her tightly. The relief Piper felt overwhelmed her, and she found herself choking back tears.

“Are you hurt?” Aunt Judy asked, stepping back and scrutinizing her niece worriedly.

Piper shook her head. “I'm fine,” she said, managing a shaky smile. “And the shop might not have been damaged too badly. At least that's what I've been overhearing.”

Aunt Judy clucked and fussed, and Uncle Frank patted Piper's shoulder, both asking questions she had no answers for yet, though she immediately credited Nate with having quickly gotten her out of danger.

“Where is that young man?” Aunt Judy asked.

Piper looked around, unsure.

“There he is,” Uncle Frank said, pointing to the sheriff's cruiser where Nate stood talking with Sheriff Carlyle. Giving a report on his actions?

Piper looked beyond them to the crowd she'd been scanning moments before. Gordon Pfiefle, Charlotte Hosch, and Ralph Farber had disappeared.

M
ost of the fire vehicles had cleared off and spectators dispersed when Will suddenly drove up. Piper was about to climb into Uncle Frank's truck, having been convinced to spend the night at the farm.

“Are you all right?” Will called out, cutting his motor and jumping out.

Piper dropped the small bag she'd been allowed by the rescue team to run up and pack and was glad she'd been able to exchange the Cloverdale FD blanket for her light coat as well as slip on a pair of sandals. Aware of the many eyes currently on them, Piper and Will simply grasped hands as he explained, “I didn't know about your fire until your aunt called me,” sounding frustrated that he hadn't been on hand to rescue Piper.

“I'm fine, and I think my place is fine. A little smoky, but that'll be taken care of.”

She gave him the short version of what had happened, secretly pleased all the same at the distress evident on his face. “I'd better go, though,” she said, glancing back at the truck. “My aunt and uncle could probably use a little more sleep tonight.”

Will nodded and promised to check back with her the following day.

Piper rode off with Aunt Judy and Uncle Frank, feeling extreme fatigue set in as her adrenaline spike faded. At the farmhouse, she staggered into the guest bedroom and collapsed onto the bed, not even aware that Gracie, her aunt's plump gray cat, had slipped in to curl up beside her until Piper woke the next morning to the smell of coffee and bacon.

Much pleasanter than the smell of smoke, she thought as she stretched stiffly and gave Gracie a quick rub. Piper climbed out of bed and hopped into the shower, appearing in the kitchen a few minutes later dressed in fresh shorts and a tee and feeling ravenously hungry.

“Good morning!” Aunt Judy said, immediately pouring out orange juice for Piper. “I heard you in the shower and fried up more pancakes. We let you sleep in a bit. You looked so tired last night.”

“I was,” Piper said, taking a grateful swallow of the juice and helping herself to two of the pancakes that her aunt had stacked in the center of the table. Uncle Frank had already worked his way through his own helping and was leaning back in his chair, holding his half-filled coffee mug.

“I hope you two managed to grab a few winks?” Piper asked.

“Frank was out like a light,” Aunt Judy said with a laugh, looking over fondly at her husband. “I was a little keyed up, but I managed to doze off.”

Piper saw dark shadows under her aunt's eyes and felt terrible to have been the cause, however unintentionally. Aunt Judy still bustled about the kitchen with her usual energy, however, urging Piper to eat before bringing over coffee and sitting down herself. Gracie immediately jumped onto her lap.

Uncle Frank sipped at his mug silently, letting Piper enjoy her breakfast and Aunt Judy enjoy fussing over her for a while, then said, “Sheriff Carlyle called earlier.”

“Oh?” Piper grabbed her napkin to wipe her fingers of grease after nibbling at a crispy strip of bacon.

“Chief Branson says the cause of your fire was arson.”

“Arson!” Aunt Judy cried, startling Gracie, who leaped to the floor.

“They found evidence of an accelerant. They think it was gasoline. Nate Purdy also told them he'd happened to look out his window last night because he heard a noise. He thought he saw a dark figure running away as the fire flared up.”

“Oh my Lord,” Aunt Judy said.

Piper was silent. She was thinking of the trash dump, the paint splash, and her tire damage, three vandalisms that were more aggravating inconveniences. If the fire had been started by the same person, he'd taken things to a frightening level.

“Did they find any other evidence?” she asked.

Uncle Frank shook his head. “Didn't say. You might get more out of him later. Chief Branson said there's no reason you can't be back in there and start cleaning up. They doused the fire before there was any structural damage.”

“Thank God for that,” Aunt Judy said. She reached down for Gracie and lifted her back onto her lap, and Piper thought the soft stroking that followed was likely as soothing to her aunt as it was to Gracie. She noticed a lingering worried look on her uncle's face as though he had more bad news.

“What else?” she asked.

Uncle Frank cleared his throat. “Well, seems like Russell Johnson told Sheriff Carlyle he happened to turn into your alley around the time of the fire, and the only person he saw there was Nate Purdy.”

• • •

“T
he whole town's out to get Nate!” Amy paced around Piper's Picklings, her arms crossed tightly across her chest.

“Russell Johnson only told your father what he saw.”

“What was Russell Johnson doing in your alley in the first place!”

“Well, it's not only my alley, of course, since it runs behind several shops and a few houses. He said he was walking his dog.”

“In the middle of the night?”

“The dog's old, according to Aunt Judy. He has to go out a lot.”

“So Johnson saw Nate from which end?”

“His house is near Mindy Atwater's yarn shop, so I suppose he entered on the south end.”

“The person Nate saw could have run north and disappeared by the time Nate came down from his place.”

“I think that's entirely possible,” Piper agreed. “And I'm sure your father will see that.”

“I'm not so sure,” Amy said grumpily, though she'd slowed her pacing. “I wouldn't be surprised if Ben Schaeffer is currently pushing a theory on how Nate managed to dispose of a huge can of gasoline before anyone arrived. Oh, and miscalculated the ignition time of the fire before calling 911.

Piper wouldn't have been surprised, either, but she said nothing.

Amy looked around. “Thank goodness they put it all out before you had any real damage.”

“I have Nate to thank for that, absolutely. The fire only scorched the bricks and siding. Plenty of smoke got in, of course, but the fans are getting rid of it. I've already called someone to come check the outside and clean or repair what's needed.” She paused a moment. “Maybe they can take care of the paint on the front of the building while they're at it. I might as well give up on Max Noland, who keeps promising to do it but never shows up.”

Amy smiled ruefully. “I'm so sorry, Piper. What did Nate and I get you into when we asked for your help?”

Piper was saved from having to answer when her phone rang. She picked up with a crisp, “Piper's Picklings.”

“Miss Lamb?” a woman inquired softly.

“This is Piper Lamb. How can I help you?”

“This is Brenda Franklin. I heard about your latest troubles, as well as your interest in Alan Rosemont's murder.”

“Yes?” Franklin's name rang a bell but not loud enough for Piper to place it.

“I was a good friend of Alan's. I was so distressed over his murder and wasn't able to speak to anyone about it for days.”
Alan Rosemont's girlfriend!
“But,” Franklin continued, “hearing about your fire last night on the heels of your other occurrences has shaken me. You've been trying to do the right thing. I think I have something to share that might help you.”

Piper's heart jumped. “Really? What is it?”

“It's much too complicated to explain over the phone. Would you be able to come here at four thirty?”

“Yes, of course.” That meant finding someone to watch the shop or closing it, since Amy would be gone. But Piper would do that. This appointment sounded much too important to haggle over the time. She wrote down Brenda's address.

After hanging up, Piper turned to Amy, excited. “We just might be getting the break we've been hoping for.”