Eggs Benedict Arnold (6 page)

Suzanne felt pretty darned comfortable in her faded denim jeans, soft white cotton shirt tied at the waist, and
turquoise jewelry, but she wasn
’
t totally adverse to casually perusing Alchemy
’
s offerings. But no way was she slipping
on platform shoes or any kind of top or tunic that sported oversized shoulder pads. Been there, done that.

“
I
’
m going to ask you a question and, however you an
swer it,
”
said Doogie,
“
I want to make sure I have your complete confidence.
”
He made a zipping motion across his mouth.
“
Okay?
”

Toni nodded while Suzanne gave a reluctant,
“
Okay.
”

Doogie leaned forward across the counter.
“
How much
do you know about Earl Stensrud?
”

Now Suzanne was really confused.
“
Earl? You mean
Missy
’
s ex-husband? Why would you bring
him
up? That guy
’
s ancient history.
”

Toni bobbed her head.
“
Last I heard Earl Stensrud was
living in Kansas City.
”

“
Not anymore he
’
s not,
”
said Doogie, with a slight air of superiority.
“
Earl moved back to Kindred a couple of months ago. He
’
s selling insurance for Universal Allied Home and Life.
”

“
Okay,
”
said Suzanne,
“
that
’
s an interesting little factoid. But why would you consider Earl a suspect? What made him pop up on your radar screen?
”

Doogie looked pleased at Suzanne
’
s question as he
paused to scratch his ample stomach.
“
Because I have it on
good authority that Ozzie and Earl were seen arguing in a bar this past Friday night.
”

Petra came steamrolling through the swinging door and
plunked down sausages, pancakes, and a caramel roll in front of Doogie.
“
Which bar?
”
she asked.

“
Schmitt
’
s,
”
said Doogie.

“
That
’
s no big deal,
”
chimed in Toni, obviously eager to pooh-pooh Doogie
’
s theory.
“
Everybody gets caught up in some kind of wacky argument when they hit a few bars.
”
She went on to explain.
“
You have yourself a couple tequila sours, wolf down a few handfuls of stale pop
corn, maybe buy a basket of pull tabs . . . next thing you
know, you
’
re snarling over some stupid little thing...
”
She grimaced, then her gaze slid to Suzanne and Petra, who
looked slightly aghast.
“
At least
th
at
’
s what happens to me
and Junior,
”
Toni added in a small voice.

Junior was Junior Garrett, Toni
’
s bad-boy estranged husband. He was a few years younger than Toni, a vo-tech dropout, self-proclaimed womanizer, and worked as a grinder and metal finisher over at Shelby
’
s Body Shop. Toni
’
s impromptu Vegas wedding to Junior had been a hideous mistake and now Toni was wrestling with the notion of getting out of it. Especially since Junior had a habit of disappearing with the local VFW
’
s floozy bartender.

“
It
’
s doubtful,
”
said Suzanne,
“
but I suppose Earl could be a long-shot possibility in this. But certainly not Missy, no way is Missy involved.
”

Toni looked thoughtful.
“
Did it ever occur to you guys
that maybe Ozzie
’
s partner bumped him off?
”

Doogie lifted his shoulders in an indifferent shrug.
“
Maybe. I
’
m gonna talk to Draper later this morning.
”
Doogie dug into his pancakes, took a couple of appreciative bites, then said,
“
It
’
s a funny thing. Ozzie left a m
essage
on my answering machine yesterday. I was kind of
working my way over to his place when Petra waylaid me
in the park and asked me to check on Suzanne.
”

“
It
’
s a good thing you did,
”
said Petra.

“
Why do you think Ozzie called you yesterday?
”
asked
Suzanne, her radar suddenly pinging.
“
Do you think that call was somehow connected to his murder? That he felt threatened by someone?
”

“
Don
’
t know,
”
said Doogie, as he continued to snarf his
breakfast at an increasingly rapid pace.

“
Maybe Earl Stensrud sold Ozzie an insurance policy
and Ozzie wasn
’
t happy,
”
said Toni.
“
Maybe Ozzie tried to get his money back and Earl said no way.
”

“
I ain
’
t ruling anybody out at this point,
”
said Doogie.

Toni rolled her eyes in a gesture of exasperation.
“
Then
what about Suzanne? She was there. Is she a suspect, too?
”

Doogie shifted his focus to Suzanne, who had grabbed a couple of tins of tea and was trying to decide between brewing a pot of jasmine or Earl Grey.

“
Probably not,
”
was Doogie
’
s response.
“
She was awful
loopy from that chloroform.
”

“
Well, thank you, Dr. Doogie, for your expert diagno
sis,
”
said Suzanne.
“
And by the way, did you question that
kid who was there yesterday? Ozzie
’
s assistant?
”

“
Bo Becker,
”
filled in Doogie.

“
Holy buckets,
”
exclaimed Toni,
“
I
know
that guy. Ju
nior drove in an amateur stock car race against Bo Becker this past summer. Over at Speedway Park.
”

“
Didn
’
t I hear somewhere that Bo Becker was bad news?
”
asked Petra.
“
Wasn
’
t he arrested for stealing cars?
”

“
Ayup,
”
burped Doogie.
“
Did time in juvie hall.
”

‘
Then Becker
’
s your guy,
”
said Toni, pouncing like a hungry duck on a fat grasshopper.
“
Has to be.
”

‘
Talk like that leads to rumors,
”
muttered Doogie.
“
And around Kindred, rumors spread like wildfire.
”

“
Oh, stuff it,
”
Toni told him.

Doogie squeezed his eyes shut and let loose an ear-
splitting sneeze.
‘
“
Scuse me,
”
he said, pulling out a hanky.
“
Must be pollen or dust in here.
”
He wiped at his nose,
glanced up at one of the shelves.
“
Probably dust. You got so
darned many chickens up there.
”

“
I
’
ll have you know those are dusted religiously,
”
said Toni, slightly indignant.

“
Let
’
s get back to the murder,
”
said Suzanne.
“
What about
the drugs? Did you determine if any drugs were missing?
”

‘
Too soon to tell,
”
Doogie responded.
“
Draper
’
s gotta go through the inventory list and that
’
s in some computer file.
”

“
And the sticky tape remnants and stuff,
”
said Suzanne.
“
The crime scene evidence. What have you found out about
that?
”

“
Still at the state lab. Gonna take a while,
”
said Doogie.

“
Well, let me know, will you?
”
asked Suzanne.

“
Maybe,
”
said Sheriff Doogie, using the last chunk of
his caramel roll to sop up the puddle of syrup on his plate,
“
as long as I get a little quid pro quo.
”

“
What do you mean?
”
asked Toni. Her eyes shifted to Suzanne, then Petra.
“
What
’
s he talking about?
”

“
I
’
d like you to keep your eyes and ears open, okay?
”
Doogie asked the three women.
“
I know you gals overhear all sorts of loose talk when folks sit down to eat.
”

“
Addressing us as
ladies
is the correct and more polite term,
”
said Petra.
“
Not
gals.
It serves no purpose to speak in tired, old, male chauvinisms.
”

“
Whatever,
”
muttered Doogie. He stood languidly, hitched his belt, and headed for the door. As was typical of Doogie, he never paid his bill because he never asked for a bill.

“
Hey, Doogie-doo,
”
Toni called after him,
“
don
’
t let the
screen door slap that wide load of yours on the way out.
”
When Doogie turned his head and threw Toni a sour look, she added,
“
On the other hand, how could it not?
”

Chapter five

“
Can
you believe it?
”
exclaimed Suzanne.
“
Doogie
actually sees Missy as a suspect!
”
She was standing in the
kitchen with Petra, helping frost cupcakes. Carrot cake with cream cheese icing.

“
Doogie tried to project an air of confidence,
”
said Petra,
“
like he was seriously large and in charge. But you
could tell he was really in turmoil. I guess a county sheriff doesn
’
t exactly have the experience and wherewithal that a
big-city homicide detective might have.
”

“
You have to admit,
”
said Suzanne,
“
th
at Doogie does
a dang fine job of rousting young lovers from Bluff Creek Park and shagging the occasional coyote that wanders into
town. But for him to think Missy was involved . . . that
’
s a horrible accusation. I can
’
t quite get past such idiotic thinking!
”

“
Try to,
”
advised Petra.
“
Otherwise it will just drive you
nuts.
”

“
Who
’
s nuts?
”
asked Toni, pushing her way through the swinging door, cradling a plastic tub of dirty dishes on her
hip.

“
Suzanne
’
s obsessing because Doogie said he was look
ing hard at Missy,
”
explained Petra.
“
But, in the end, any suspicion he has won
’
t amount to a hill of beans.
”

Still, Suzanne looked worried.
“
But if Missy had broken
up with Ozzie and was starting to see Earl again ...
”
she began.

“
Had she?
”
asked Toni.
“
Because that
’
s not the impres
sion you gave Doogie.
”

“
I know that,
”
said Suzanne.
“
I laughed at his suggestion of Missy being a suspect because . . .
”
She stopped suddenly.

“
Because of what?
”
Petra asked quietly.

“
I guess I was trying to protect my friend,
”
said Suzanne.

“
You were right to do so,
”
said Toni, setting down her
dishes and giving Suzanne a pat on the arm. In fact, we all
need to stand together on this.
”

“
Uh-oh,
”
said Petra, licking a smear of frosting from the
back of her hand.
“
Time for an affirmation?
”

“
Couldn
’
t hurt,
”
said Suzanne.

Whenever the
ladies
of the Cackleberry Club came across a quote, a saying, or a Bible verse they liked, they scribbled it on a piece of paper and tossed it into a Red
Wing crock. Now
the
y were in the habit of drawing a slip each day from their so-called affirmation jar and sharing it
with each other.

Petra held out the crock to Toni.
“
You first.
”

Toni reached in, grabbed a pink Post-it note, and read,
“
Life
’
s problems wouldn
’
t be called hurdles if there wasn
’
t a way to get over them.
”

“
See?
”
said Petra, smiling at Suzanne.
“
Good one, huh?
”

Suzanne smiled back.
“
You
’
re right. Now you choose.
”

Petra grabbed a slip of paper, stu
died
it,
th
en read it.
“
The future belongs to those who live intensely in the pres
ent.
”
She nodded to herself and murmured,
“
I sure
try
to live in the present.
”

Toni gripped Petra
’
s arm, knowing she was thinking of
Donny.
“
You do, dear,
”
said Toni.

Petra blinked rapidly, then smiled at Suzanne.
“
Now you.
”

Suzanne grabbed a piece of paper and read it out loud.
“
Do or do not. There is no try.
”

“
Sounds familiar,
”
said Toni.
“
Is that attributed to any
one in particular? Maybe one of those really smart guys like Kierkegaard or Shakespeare?
”

Suzanne held up the slip for Toni to see.
“
Yoda.
”

“
From
Star Wars
!
”
shrieked Petra.
“
I love it!
”
And then
she was bustling about the kitchen, washing her hands, ready to whip up a batch of corn muffins.

“
We better hustle our buns and get today
’
s luncheon of
ferings up on the blackboard,
”
said Toni.

“
Let
’
s do it,
”
said Suzanne, leading the way out to the cafe.

But there were more customers to be seated, coffee cups
to be filled, and dishes to be cleared, so Suzanne ended
up tackling the chalkboard herself. Using pink and orange
chalk, she listed the four luncheon specials the Cackleberry
Club was offering today: grilled chicken with avocado on
sprouted wheat bread, asian chicken wrap, pita bread vegetarian pizza, and chicken citrus salad. Then Suzanne used
a piece of yellow chalk to make a cartoon drawing of a
wedge of pie and printed under it,
Frozen Lemonade Pie.
$2.95 a slice.

Suzanne didn
’
t need to list the rest of
the
ir goo
di
e
s, because most customers knew there was always a fresh assortment of cookies, bars, muffins, and scones. In fact, most were on display in the circular glass pastry case that sat atop the counter.

Because there was still a good thirty minutes
b
efore
the luncheon crowd began easing their way in, Suzanne went over to the sputtering old cooler in the corner and checked the shelves. On display were homemade banana
and cranberry breads, jars of fat dill pickles, canned jellies
and jams, cheeses, and boxes of string beans. These were items that local producers brought in to the Cackleberry Club to sell. It was really a win-win situation for every
one. Suzanne took a small percentage of retail sales and the
growers and producers got the lion
’
s share. She knew one woman who had helped finance her daughter
’
s junior col
lege education on what she
’
d made from selling her potato
rolls and banana bread.

But as Suzanne
’
s eyes scanned the shelves, she noticed they were very low on cheese. Ordinarily, they stocked several dozen wheels of organic blue cheese and cheddar cheese from Mike Mullen
’
s Cloverdale Farm. He had a
herd of doe-eyed Guernseys that were the sweetest, friend
liest cows Suzanne had ever encountered. Whatever it was,
the lack of antibiotics and hormones or the tender grass
and organic grain they fed on, the milk from the Cloverdale
cows yielded cheeses that were creamy and rich beyond belief. And very popular with customers, as the almost-empty shelf would attest to.