Gluten for Punishment (17 page)

CHAPTER
22

"Y
ou should tell Chief Blaylock your theory,” Tasha said as she gobbled up another petit
four.

“I don’t have any evidence.” I kept my gaze on Ed. He looked like a normal guy in
his late forties: a bit round, a bit wrinkled, and still combing over a few long hairs
in the misguided hope no one would notice he was balding.

“There’s more to your theory than what the cops have on you,” Tasha pointed out.

“What theory is this?” Chief Blaylock came up, snagged a couple of the little cakes,
and balanced them carefully on his full plate.

“Nothing, really.” I shook my head.

“She suspects Ed Bruner of killing George Meister,” Tasha said. I widened my eyes
at her, flattened my mouth, and slightly shook my head. She refused to stop. “You
see, Ed foreclosed on George’s property last month and set up an auction for next
Saturday.”

“Yes, I know.” The chief popped a petit four into his mouth. “These are really good.”

“Thanks,” I said. “I cater weddings, birthdays, anniversaries . . .”

“And funerals, obviously.” Craig stepped in and took a couple of cakes from the plate.

“I was telling Chief Blaylock about Toni’s theory of who killed George.”

“It’s really not a theory,” I protested.

“Chief, did you know that when Ed had a couple of interested buyers come tour George’s
place, George sued the bank? I think it was for more time. George said all he needed
was time and he could be caught up on payments, but Ed had buyers who weren’t willing
to wait.”

“Seriously.” The chief raised an eyebrow. “You think Ed killed George?”

“Yes,” Tasha said in a stage whisper. “You see, George was killed by a blow to the
head with a mysterious blunt instrument.”

The chief narrowed his eyes. “How do you know that?”

“It’s a small town,” Tasha said “Everyone knows. And Toni figured out what the blunt
instrument was.”

“No, I did not. More cake?” I rolled my eyes at Tasha to get her to stop. For goodness’
sake, the last thing I needed was for the police to think I had killed George because
I had a theory about the bank deposit bags.

“You know what killed George?” Craig asked.

“No, I don’t.” I looked around to see if I could excuse myself before I got into more
hot water.

“Oh, she’s being modest.” Tasha patted my arm. “She thinks it was a full bank deposit
bag. Those things are heavy if you had a day with a lot of change, or are a banker
and fill it with rolls of quarters.”

The chief stared at me and narrowed his eyes. I felt the heat of a blush rush up my
neck. I had to say something. “I merely mentioned how heavy a bank deposit bag was
when it was full. Grandma Ruth said that is how they tried to kill the Greek in the
classic novel
The Postman Always Rings Twice
.”

“It’s ingenious, really,” Tasha gushed. “I mean, wham! with the bank bag, then wipe
it off and make your deposit. The bag gets emptied and the actual ‘weapon’ is gone.”

The chief swallowed his cake and took a sip of coffee. I could hear his mind working.
Or, as my dad would say, he could smell the wood burning.

“So, you see,” Tasha continued, “Ed had motive and means. Plus, did you know there
is access to the sewer system from the bank’s basement? What better place to get rid
of evidence, like bloody clothes and junk.”

Craig’s head bobbed from Tasha to me and back as the story unfolded. I swallowed hard
and waited for the chief to slap the cuffs on me.

“Huh,” Chief Blaylock said. “Perhaps I should go talk to Ed.”

“Even better, you should check all the bank deposit bags for evidence.” Tasha’s eyes
were wide. “I bet you’ll find a bag with George’s blood on it.”

“Ew,” I said out loud. “One of the new bags I get tomorrow might have blood on it?”
I hadn’t quite thought the whole theory out. “I mean, I doubt Ed steam-cleans the
bags before he distributes them.”

“Excuse me, won’t you?” The chief put his plate on the empty platter I still held
and moved off toward Ed.

“I can’t believe you did that,” I scolded Tasha.

“What do you mean? I saved you from being charged.”

“Or got me convicted,” I stage-whispered, my gaze not leaving Chief Blaylock’s wide
back. “If Ed has an alibi, then the chief will think I’m really guilty since I know
what the murder weapon is.”

“Oh.” Tasha scrunched up her forehead then wrinkled her nose. “I hadn’t thought of
that.”

“Sounds to me like Ed has more to worry about than you do.” Craig patted me on the
back. He paused. “If it was a bank deposit bag, do you think they can link it to anyone
in particular?”

“I don’t know.” I tilted my head. “As far as I know, the bags aren’t numbered or checked
out. I mean, it’s sort of an honor system, isn’t it? You get six bags and return six
bags.”

“Too bad.” Craig sipped his coffee. “It would be cool if they could link the bag to
the killer.”

“We don’t even know if George was killed by a bank bag. Grandma Ruth said it could
be any weapon at hand, which means anything from a rock to a cane to a baseball bat.”
I tried to bring some sanity back to the discussion.

“The good news is they didn’t find anything in your shop.” Tasha sipped her coffee
and glanced around. “They have no evidence to link you, either.”

“Thank goodness.”

“You know,” Tasha said, “Todd Woles would have access to a bank bag. Wouldn’t he?”

“All the businesses on Main get bank deposit bags,” Craig said.

“Did you see Todd was here with his . . . friend? Why would they come to the memorial
but not even bother to come in for refreshments?” Tasha sipped her drink.

“I have no idea.” I noticed some people leaving. “Have a good night, folks, and remember
to stop by the bakery for the best coffee and pastries in town,” I called after them.
I mean, the whole point of the reception was to drum up new customers. Right?

“Oh, good news.” I put my hand on Tasha’s arm. “Brad says I can pick up my computer
stuff from the police station in the morning. Thanks for letting me borrow yours this
past week. You’re a lifesaver.”

“Are you no longer a suspect?” Craig asked.

“No.” I gave a short shake of my head. “It simply means Brad’s a good lawyer. He threatened
them with legal action if I didn’t get my stuff back. After all, it is my livelihood.”
I noticed Tasha flagging me down. “Gotta go, see you at dinner.”

The reception had only lasted a little over an hour. Meghan and I boxed up the remainders
and sent them home with Sherry and Alisa. I locked the front and turned to find Meghan
grinning at me. “That was interesting,” I said.

“My first catering gig.” She pulled out the last of the trays from the display case.
“You actually sold three pies, two cakes, and a couple dozen cookies.”

“That’s a perk of hosting at the bakery.” I hit the switch and turned off the music.
Meghan had cleaned the front as people left. The only thing left to do was prep work
for the morning. I checked the clock; I had less than a half an hour before I was
supposed to be at Tasha’s dinner party.

Meghan towel-dried the last of the dishes. “What do you do with the day-old pies and
cookies?”

“I take them to the food pantry.” I took off my white apron and hung it on the coat
rack. “If the bakery really gets going, I might be able to sell discounted day-olds.
But right now people are suspicious of gluten-free food, so I have to be sure everything
is as fresh as possible.”

“Cool.” Meghan took off her apron and hung it up. “Do you need anything else?”

“No, I’m good. I’ll see you tomorrow morning.”

“See ya.” Meghan put on her coat and walked out the back door.

“Hey,” I said as a thought occurred to me.

“Yeah?”

“Do you have an escort? It’s dark out there.”

Meghan’s eyes flashed and she laughed. “It’s because of the dead guy, right?”

“That and someone shot out the back light and spray painted the back door this morning.”

“Jesus.” Meghan’s eyes grew wide.

“Don’t worry, it’ll pass. But I think you shouldn’t go out there alone at least for
a while.”

“My bike is parked out back.” Meghan pointed toward the door.

“Hang on, I’ll go with you.” I grabbed my coat and purse and walked out. I set the
alarm and locked the door, then I walked to where she’d locked her bicycle to the
single street-lamp, which lighted the back parking area.

I shivered and glanced around as she unlocked her bike. “Listen, why don’t you toss
it in the back of the van and I’ll give you a ride home. Okay?”

“Sure.” Meghan walked her bike to the van. “This place is kind of giving me the creeps
all of a sudden.”

“Tomorrow, park your bike out front,” I suggested. “There are more people out front
to see you when you take off.” I opened the back of the van and she lifted her bike
inside.

“Isn’t the front where the guy was killed?”

I slammed the door shut. “Yes, but more people are around on Main Street this time
of night. You know, date night, movies, cruising, and such.”

“You think kids still cruise?” She laughed at me when I shrugged.

“What, am I showing my age?”

“A little.”

We both climbed into the van and slammed our doors. I hit the lock button and started
the van up. Suddenly, someone pounded on my driver’s window, scaring me half to death.
I think I screamed or maybe it was Meghan; more likely both of us.

A shadowed male’s face filled the window. “Open up!”

“Who are you, and why should I?” The van was running. All I had to do was put it in
gear and back out. Unless he had a gun, in that case I’d try to run him over first.
“Do you have your seat belt on?” I whispered to Meghan.

“I do.”

“I need to talk to you,” the muffled male voice went on.

“I can’t see your face.”

He took a step back into more of the light. “It’s me. Ed Bruner.”

Crap.

“What do you want?”

“I need to talk to you,” Ed said. “Open your window.”

Since it didn’t look like he had a gun or a blunt instrument, I opened my window a
crack and hoped I wasn’t being like one of those too-stupid-to-live horror-movie girls.
You know the ones who hear a noise and go down into the basement to check it out.
And everyone yells to get out of there, the killer is down there . . . right before
the killer gets her.

“What do you want, Ed? I’m late for a dinner party at Tasha Wilkes’s house.”

Meghan leaned forward. “And I’ve got to get home.”

“I want to know what the hell you said to Chief Blaylock. He said he’d like to examine
all our bank deposit bags and hoped I wouldn’t make him get a warrant.”

“I didn’t say anything,” which was the truth. It was Tasha who had done all the talking.

“Now no one’s getting their bank bags distributed tomorrow because first thing in
the morning the chief is taking them all in.”

Welcome to my world, I thought but tried to keep my mouth shut. “Get a good lawyer
and you’ll get them back in three to four days.” Yes, I know, I have a smart mouth.

Ed’s face grew red and his eyes narrowed. “Goddamn it! How are people supposed to
make their deposits with no bags?”

“I don’t know, maybe walk in and give the cash to the teller?”

“I swear to God, if I find out you prompted this—”

“Is everything all right here?” Sam came around the van, his tool belt slung low on
his hip. It startled me when he appeared suddenly, but then I was relieved there was
another witness should things go horribly bad.

“Not really.” I waved at Sam. “Ed was scaring us while expressing his concerns about
being a person of interest in the murder case.”

“Dude, you all right?” Sam leaned against the van and had his hands in his pocket.
He looked calm but in control, which helped lower my heart rate.

“Great, just great.” Ed waved his hands in an exasperated gesture. “Even better if
people minded their own business.” Then he stormed off.

I lowered the window all the way and leaned out to catch Sam’s attention. “Thanks
for that.”

“No problem.”

“I didn’t know you were in town . . .”

“Mrs. Becher over at the quilt shop saw my truck parked out front the other day and
called. Thanks to you, I finished an easy remodel on the quilt shop bathroom.”

“Nice.” Meghan gave him the thumbs-up.

“I was closing up when I heard that guy shouting. Thought I’d see if everything was
all right.”

“It is now. Thanks.” I took a deep breath to calm my nerves. “I’m taking Meghan home.
I didn’t think it was safe for her to ride her bike this late at night.”

“Good choice.” Sam gave a short nod of his head. “Be safe, you two.” He stepped back
and I threw the van in gear and headed toward Central.

“Wow,” was the first thing Meghan said. “I thought Mr. Bruner was going to punch you.”

I swallowed. “Kind of hard to do with that much glass between us.”

“Good thing he didn’t have a gun.”

I had had the same thought and tried not to think about it too much.