Plan Bee (28 page)

“The chief has a strong case.”

“He must have a murder weapon then?” I’d watched enough crime dramas. I knew the drill.

“You’ll have to ask him about that.”

I shrugged off the dodge. “What about my mom? Is she safe around Tom?”

“She didn’t look like she was in any danger to me.”

Sally got back in her car and drove off. I headed for Tom’s apartment.

The first thing I asked Tom was, “Do they have a murder weapon?”

Tom was sitting at his kitchen table. Mom was holding
his hand across the table. I’d never actually seen shell-shocked before, but that’s how I’d describe Tom at the moment. “The police chief,” he said, “thinks I strangled Ford with some kind of cloth material. They found brown fibers.”

So Patti’s information had been correct.

Tom went on. “Nothing in my store or apartment was a match, and the chief is getting desperate.”

“He’s not finding a murder weapon,” my mom said, “because you didn’t do it.”

“We know that, Helen,” Tom said patiently. “But he’s determined.”

“You don’t have to worry anymore,” Mom said, oblivious to the extent of Tom’s problems. “We’ll see this through.”

I sat down, even though neither of them had invited me. “Did your brother ever mention Bob Petrie?” I asked him.

“Story,” Mom said with some scold in her voice, “the man has been through enough. Let him rest.”

Tom said to Mom, “It’s okay, Helen.” Then to me, “Not that I know of. Why?”

“Just fishing,” I said. “But you must have some idea why Ford was holed up in the house next to mine.”

Tom stared at the table, then said, “I hate to think he was up to no good. Maybe he was here to make amends.”

“Oh, please,” Mom said. “He was going to try to steal your money, and you know it.”

“But how?” I asked her. “Not by killing Tom. That would tie up his inheritance in probate for a long time, maybe for years. Not to mention that Ford would be the primary suspect.”

“I do have a whole lot of cash in a safe,” Tom said, confirming my suspicion. “I think he was planning to rob me.”

“We just need to prove it,” Mom said, like it was an easy task.

Carrie Ann was working alone. Holly had been a no-show, but my cousin was doing fine.

I, on the other hand, was far from fine.

More like seriously confused. Not to mention freaked-out at a sudden revelation I experienced on the way back to the store. If it even could be called a revelation.

It had to do with my scarf.

And brown fibers from a murder weapon used to kill a man.

My new scarf, which happened to be one with
brown
fibers, was missing from the library. While I really didn’t think it was the murder weapon (or at least I tried not to think that), a scarf like mine would work to strangle a person. Lori had almost strangled me with it the other night, after all.

Had Johnny Jay taken my scarf from the library? Was he comparing it to the medical examiner’s brown fibers? No, he would have told Emily if he was taking it, and she’d have told me. But what if he gave her a gag order?

And what was with Bob Petrie’s hickory nut tattoo? Bob had to be the one leaving the nuts as threats, but why?

Not only did I have to extricate myself from Patti’s madness, I needed to put distance between this murder case and me. Which would have been easier if my mother wasn’t dating the main suspect.

I should be tending my bees, minding my store, spending time with Hunter, while the future unfolded in whatever form it chose.

Like Scarlett O’Hara, I wanted to think about these problems tomorrow. Or the next day. Or the next. Why had I gotten involved?

I decided to call Hunter and make plans with him for tonight. Hang out with him and Ben and Dinky, give the stubborn princess a few lessons in obedience, make a few well-deserved love moves on my man.

Hunter didn’t answer his phone when I tried calling him. I didn’t leave a message but figured once he saw that I had tried to reach him, he’d return my call. He was probably in a K-9 training session.

In the meantime, I took Dinky outside to do her business, a useless gesture since she’d already peed on the floor. After that, Carrie and I worked side by side, chatting up customers, something I really liked. I hadn’t seen Patti since early this morning, making me wonder what she was up to. I’d put in several calls to her cell without a response. I kept my eyes peeled for Johnny Jay just in case he was after me for having brown fibers.

Later in the morning, Eugene Petrie came into the store, which more than surprised me. Had he ever been in The Wild Clover? I didn’t think so. Without Naggie Aggie, the guy was halfway decent. He said hello, even took time for some small talk. It was all I could do not to start grilling him about his son Bob’s strange fascination with hickory nuts.

But I kept quiet.

Eugene went off down an aisle.

Carrie Ann was handling business just fine, so when Hunter called a few minutes later, I went into my office for privacy. We made plans to meet at Stu’s Bar and Grill later.

“I did a little research for you,” he said.

“Huh?”

“On Bob Petrie.”

I’d forgotten all about my request. “Tell me.”

“I’m not sure how relevant this is, but Bob Petrie was in the Waukesha jail a few months ago.”

“From what I hear, he comes and goes there. What was he in for?”

“Not showing up for a court appearance.”

I was a little disappointed. I wanted something more obvious, like assault or battery, or anything to suggest he had a violent nature.

“What was he going to court for?” I wanted to know. “Assaulting somebody?”

“A traffic violation.”

“That’s it?” Pretty insignificant. Although as a full-time employed driver, his driving record would be important to his job. Not to me, though.

“There’s more,” Hunter said. “Ford Stocke was in the Waukesha jail, too. Those two spent time together in the same cell.”

“I knew it!” I almost shouted, then remembered Eugene Petrie might still be inside the store. “Bob probably was Ford’s partner.”

“Story, what’s going on?”

I hadn’t been sharing much information with Hunter and I probably should have been. But when? If he wasn’t working, I was. And he wouldn’t come to the store just to chitchat, so… it wasn’t exactly like I’d kept anything from him.

“I’ll tell you everything tonight,” I promised.

“Give me a quick rundown. You can fill in the holes later.”

“It’s complicated. It would be better if I could explain the whole thing all at once,” I told him.

“Fine, save it then. We’ll talk tonight.”

Soon after I hung up, Holly arrived decked out in a new outfit, new shoes, new highlights—the works. I checked the time. “Only a few hours late today,” I said, dripping with sarcasm. “Shopping? Getting your hair done?”

“Max’s coming home tonight. I have to look good for him.”

My spoiled, rich sister didn’t have a clue what real work and commitment entailed. And my mother? Where was she? Oh yes, she was out smooching with her jailbird boyfriend.

A word of caution: Never, ever go into business with family members. Not that I did that on purpose. Somehow they all gravitated here after the store was a success, apparently a common occurrence in small businesses.

I sat in my office, intent on removing myself from all nuts—hickory, mental cases, and murder suspects, but I started feeling like an alcoholic who needed a drink, like a user who needed a fix. Sweat formed on my forehead. I got the shakes. I couldn’t stop thinking about the murder investigation and how I could make a difference. I was sure of it. I had information that the authorities could use. If only Johnny Jay wasn’t the authority in this case.

When Carrie Ann was drinking heavily, she told me how it was, that every morning she had good intentions. This was the day she’d stop. And she meant it. Every morning. Then by early afternoon, her resolve began slipping. By three o’clock the urge was strong. Just one drink, no more. By four she couldn’t wait any longer. By five, she was on her third.

That was me at the moment. Back and forth with urges. The sane part of me wanted to share every last bit of information with Hunter and Johnny Jay and let one of them figure out the rest. Not that the chief would listen to me, but that shouldn’t be my problem.

By five o’clock, when the twins arrived and took over, the urge to interfere was getting even stronger. I tried calling Patti again. No answer still.

I arranged a powwow at Stu’s Bar and Grill with my sister, mom, grandmother, and cousin. And since I was joining Hunter there a little later, I made the meeting for an hour earlier than our rendezvous, because my cop boyfriend wasn’t invited to this particular get-together.

I walked over with Holly and Dinky. As usual, Stu looked the other way when I snuck Dinky into a corner table. Mom came in a few minutes later, followed by Grams and Carrie Ann.

“I haven’t had a drop to drink,” Carrie Ann said, immediately going on the defensive when she saw the family assembled, assuming this was one of our interventions. Like we’d actually have one at a bar. “I’ll swear on a stack of Bibles.” She raised her right hand and put the other one over her heart.

“Sit down,” I said. “This isn’t about you.”

“Thank God.” She slid in.

The bar was hopping, thanks to the happy-hour crowd. Grams took a picture of Stu behind the bar before joining us.

“That Stu is one sweet man,” Grams said to me. “You’re attached at the hip to Hunter Wallace, another fine catch, but Stu needs a woman to spend time with. If things don’t work out with Hunter, you have a backup.”

“Stu has a girlfriend,” I pointed out.

“Yes, but that relationship isn’t going anywhere. How about you, Carrie Ann? Why aren’t you after that cute man?”

I jumped in before Grams got too focused on matchmaking. Besides, I had a feeling Carrie Ann was quietly reconciling with her ex-husband, Gunnar; but even if she wasn’t, would dating the owner of a bar be such a good idea for a recovering alcoholic? I thought not. Knowing this
group, it would be hard to bring them back to the matter at hand once they started pairing off residents.

Stu took orders—nonalcoholic drinks for all of us out of respect for my cousin and lots of heart-clogging appetizers. Before leaving to place the order, Stu gave me a wink that made me realize he’d heard our conversation about him.

“I need help,” I said to the group.

“You’re pregnant,” Holly said.

“No!”

“That’s certainly a relief,” Mom said.

“I’d go to Johnny Jay with my problem,” I added, “but he hates my guts.”

That comment got a flurry of active consideration. Stu delivered our drinks and said, “Johnny Jay is hot after you.” Then he walked away.

“That’s right,” Grams agreed. “The chief is in love with you.”

I snorted iced tea all over the table and grabbed a napkin to mop it up. “It’s true,” she insisted. “He’s behaving like a little boy, being mean to get your attention.”

“Whatever,” I said, refusing to even consider such a ridiculous idea. “I can’t go to him. So I’m telling you instead and we can all figure out what to do.” That
we
part felt good. I didn’t have to handle this all alone. I planned to drag them in, too.

Stu delivered our food and while we dug in, I brought them up to date on the things I knew but they didn’t, starting with Ford and how I realized he had a partner of some sort.

“He made a slip when I asked him how long he’d be staying,” I told them. “He said ‘we.’ ”

That brought a few blank stares.

I plowed ahead. “Like he had someone working with him. You know, a coconspirator.”

Mom said, “That’s hardly evidence, Story.”

I nodded and moved on to bigger and better stuff. Like
Patti’s attacker, which everybody knew about, including the hickory nuts, but it was worth repeating before I hit them with another big tidbit. “Bob Petrie has a hickory nut tattooed on his arm. I bet he’s the one who attacked Patti. And he was in jail with Ford! That must’ve been where they plotted to rob Tom together.”

Everybody stared at me.

“We have to band together to help Tom,” I rushed on. “And to help Mom.”

“But how?” my sister asked.

“If we prove what I just told you, we might be able to change public opinion’s perception of Tom, maybe prove he was only protecting himself from two known criminals.”

Mom shook her head. “Tom didn’t do anything wrong.”

Grams agreed, but that wasn’t a big surprise. She always thought the best of everybody.

Carrie Ann joined in, siding with Mom, too.

Holly looked over at me and didn’t commit to one opinion or the other.

Lately, my thoughts had been churning in the same direction as theirs, in spite of all the evidence against Tom. The idea that he might really be innocent zapped me like little pricks of electric connections in my head.

But my mind argued back, bringing up a very good point. I didn’t realize I’d said it out loud.

“What do you mean, ‘but he had blood on his shirt’?” Carrie Ann said, so I had to explain what I was talking about, how Tom showed up at Stu’s with a bloody shirt.