Scrambled to Death: A Sage and Dash Cozy Mystery (2 page)

Rosie’s entire world twisted. She and John Patterson were picked up on suspicion. Both accused restaurateurs swore they had nothing to do with the murders, but the police weren’t taking any chances.

Rosie asked her mom to hire a lawyer. A lawyer would have been the easy way, but Libby never did things that made sense. Instead, she made her own plans. Libby slipped into the small town jail cell late at night and broke her daughter out. They’d been holding her until she could be seen by a judge. John’s mouth gaped as he watched Libby break her daughter free. Of the two small cells, they’d each been placed in one.

“What about me? I’m innocent,” he claimed.

Libby simply shrugged. “Sorry, buddy, blood is thicker than water.”

John started yelling out, rattling the cage to bring attention to the situation.

“Oh shush, you old trouble maker,” Libby snapped. She finagled the lock to his cage, knowing she was limited on time.

“Mom, how did you learn to do that?” Rosie stared and watched her mother’s hidden talent.

Libby didn’t answer; there wasn’t time to talk. “Not now, let’s get out of here, before the guard wakes up.”

“What did you do?” Rosie felt the weight drop on her shoulders. Her mother’s actions would jeopardize her.

Libby glared. “Really, you can’t ask me this stuff later?”

“I shouldn’t go. I’m innocent, and if I run it makes me look guilty,” Rosie said, contemplating her options. If she broke out of jail as an innocent woman, she’d look suspicious and guilty, while staying meant she could be charged with a crime she didn’t commit.

John addressed Rosie. “Do you want to be put away for murder?”

Rosie hemmed and hawed, then snuck out the side door with the other two. Everything in her body told her not to run. She’d regret this. It would add to her perceived list of crimes. She could simply explain that she had nothing to do with it, no motive, no intent, and that there was a misunderstanding. Right? And then she would wait for pigs to fly. They said there was evidence, that she was the one guilty on one count, while John on the other. They claimed they were working together. How? Why? Confused and in turmoil, she disappeared from the town’s small jail cell before she could get bumped to the county prison. She’d have to take her chances.

John squeezed Libby’s hand once they were outside. “Thank you, baby. I’m sorry that I let you down.”

Rosie tilted her head.
Baby?
Libby shot him a look. There was a silent exchange going on, and only the two of them knew what was going on. Rosie’s jaw dropped. “Mom, are you and John…”

“Were,” she answered. “Now get in the truck, before we get caught.”

“She was going to leave me there,” John whined.

Libby fired up the truck and cautiously pulled onto the street. Nobody knew where she planned on driving, but it certainly wasn’t home.

“We need to figure out what’s going on. As soon as they realize you’re gone, they’ll be looking for you. We’ll hold up at a friend’s vacation cabin for a bit. I know where they keep their spare key.”

“We’re fugitives now? Mom, take me back! I can’t do this.” Rosie’s stomach flipped flopped.

“It’s too late now, kiddo. It’s time to put your sleuthing hat on, because I’m not letting my little girl to go jail for a murder she didn’t commit.”

“How can you be sure,” Rosie challenged.

Libby zipped her lip and kept driving.

They didn’t expect the state police to be notified so quickly. The road block meant one of two things. They’d be in bigger trouble, or they’d need to get around it. John took a third option. He pushed the door open and rolled onto the side of the road, then scampered into the woods. Police were on him in minutes, and from the rear view mirror, Libby watched John come out of the woods with his hands up. She closed her eyes and pushed down hard on the accelerator.

“Mom, no!” Rosie braced herself, certain her mother was about to crash through the barrier. Instead she threw the truck into a spin and slid down the ravine and back up onto the road on the other side. Rosie watched in horror as the cops jumped in their vehicles for the chase.

“You aren’t capable of murder,” Libby yelled at her daughter. “They think they have an open and closed case. Not going to happen on my watch, kiddo…we’ll prove them wrong, no matter what it takes. Your freedom is too important.”

Rosie didn’t know whether to thank her mother or scold her for the trouble. It was a mixed relationship, somewhere between love, hate – and you drive me crazy.

When the police finally blocked them in, Libby cried. “I tried. There’s only one more thing I can do for you,” she said, before getting out of the car and pleading her case. “I did it, I’m guilty. I’m the one that killed those men. You have the wrong people. I’ll sign a confession. You can set the other two free.”

**

Rosie fainted. A cop held smelling salts under her nose to bring her back. Coming to, she saw her mother handcuffed and brought to the back of a police cruiser. Rosie’s entire world crumbled into pieces and then burned to ash.

Rosie yawned and stretched. It was a restless night, but at least she got a little sleep. She glanced at the clock, noting she still had a few hours before she had to climb out of bed. The results of the autopsy would be back soon. What a crazy dream. She replayed the episode in her mind as if it was real. In prison with John, her mother broke her out of jail, and then chaos. Rosie shook her head and glanced around her room. Sure enough, she was happily tucked into her bed. Dash slept beside her, curled up and purring. He was still lost in his own dreams, snoozing away.

Wait. What about her mother? Was she home? Rosie forced herself out of bed to check. Everything blended together after the whirlwind of statements, the emergency crew, and closing the restaurant while the officials did an investigation. The police took the coffee and bagel that were on the counter before the dead man. While they figured he’d probably had a heart attack, they were careful not to rule out anything too quickly. He was a young man, late thirties, early forties at most, and with another dead body the day before, they were taking things more seriously. Was it accidental, natural causes, or had a homicide taken place?

Rosie gently pressed her mother’s door open. Rosie sighed with relief. Libby was tucked in and sleeping.

The dream felt so real and chased her thoughts. Sleep wasn’t going to come easily. Rosie headed to the kitchen and sifted through the fridge, looking for a cold drink. She pulled out a Diet Coke and snapped the pop-top of the can. Dash showed up a few moments later. He must have noticed she was gone. He liked to stay close to her. The cat nestled alongside Rosie’s feet as she dropped to the kitchen table and sat in one of the chairs. Taking a big swig, the events of the day unfolded again. She was in the restaurant kitchen. There was a thud, a scream, and then a dead man. It was all too close for comfort.

“This is freaky, right Dash? I mean, he was perfectly fine, then he dropped. Now he’s as dead as a door nail.” Her voice was laced with disbelief.

“Meow,” Dash answered. He wasn’t a big talker, but realized she needed comfort. He slipped between her ankles and circled her legs.

“Thanks, buddy.” Rosie reached down to scratch his ear. Otherwise, she could only sit and stare at the wall. Life was so simple, and now this. Okay, maybe not simple, but certainly not this.

When things went haywire, it left her anxious. Her general cautious nature and preference for routine kept most things in check.  She’d lived a crazy childhood that often times felt circus-like, so having a semblance of control as an adult gave Rosie a sense of security. Her mother on the other hand, simply gave her grayer hair.

Her mom’s lack of common sense, big gossipy mouth, and unpolished ways could have been part of Rosie’s need for calm. While Libby’s heart was big, she was gullible, and had lost the family farm more times than Rosie cold count, and would turn around and get into trouble once again not a few weeks later. Rosie’s childhood was at best – chaotic. Thankfully, those days were behind her, as were her father, the random ‘boyfriends’ that would take advantage of them financially, and her mother’s need for adventure…mostly. Rosie was more the parent these days, and that suited her fine. She was proud of how far she’d come from the flea-bitten trailer park that sat behind the old drive-in movie theater that was all grown over now. She didn’t have issues with trailer parks in general, but the one they were in was all they could afford, and it was hardly the nicest in the area. Rosie shivered remembering the owner…not a nice man.

These days, electricity stayed on. Food was on the table. And Rosie ran her very own business in the sweet, small town of Spring Valley. Everything was better – except for the fact that a man died smack in the middle of her restaurant. Yeah, there was that small detail; one tiny detail that would throw her life into turmoil.

She took another drink of her cold diet soda and then went back to bed. It’s not like sleep would take her quickly, but being warm and cozy in her bed was still the best way to spend the night if she couldn’t sleep. There was always a book on her nightstand or a crossword puzzle to do. She loved to snuggle in her soft, goose-down comforter. And with Dash to keep her company, she was never alone.

Rosie chased away the past, though the memories remained. The biggest memory was the fight that split up her parents. She was better off without her father, from what she remembered. But having lived with her mom all her life, well, that was no picnic either. When he disappeared, nobody heard from him again. No letters, no money, no nothing.

Her mind drifted back to the earlier events of the day. She couldn’t erase the image of the poor man from her head. And yet, the day before a similar event happened down the road at another small family restaurant. Surely, they used the same distributors for a couple of their items. Maybe she’d check in with John Patterson and see if there were any similarities between what the dead men had eaten, or see if there was anything else that stood out.

Could it have simply been a coincidence? Two middle-aged guys with plenty of life left to live, dropping unexpectedly? Something wasn’t right, and if Rosie didn’t find out, they might land in deep waters. Would she be held responsible for the man dying at the restaurant? Was she responsible, not even knowing it? Rosie sat up in bed and dug through her small nightstand drawer to find a small pad of paper and a pen. She jotted a couple of questions down for the morning.

When the results came back from the autopsies, they didn’t look good. The men didn’t die of natural causes. They were poisoned. Poisoned! That only made matters worse. What if Rosie got a bad supply of food or condiments and somebody else got sick. The only thing she could do was close her doors until she knew everything was safe. She’d see if there was any way to find out what type of poison was used, and research what she could. Unfortunately, she was limited by her knowledge, but with a computer, help, and a need to find answers – she’d push forward. If anything, Rosemary Sage was determined.

If only one man died, or if he was older, they would have easily signed off on cardiac arrest and nothing would have been discovered. Only, the county pushed for more information due to the nature of the situation. Toxicology reports were expensive, and with budgets stretched it was rare they ran them unless necessary. In this case, they deemed it necessary. Rosie wasn’t privy to the details, and the police weren’t ready to give out too much information.

When Libby rolled out of bed, she padded down to the kitchen in her white, fluffy robe and slippers. Her hair was wild and messy, like a field of untamed weeds. “I need coffee,” she grumbled and found her way to the cabinet to pull a mug down.

“You slept in,” Rosie greeted.

“Well, with the restaurant closed, I thought I’d take advantage. We better not stay closed too long; it’s going to kill our budget. No pun intended.” She shuffled to the coffee pot and tossed a pod in. The machine hissed on and the brew slowly bubbled out. Libby leaned against the old Formica countertop waiting on her morning coffee.

“I called and got a bit of information. They think the men were poisoned.” Rosie’s face couldn’t hide her worry. She was still coming to terms with the fact that a customer died in her restaurant. She didn’t know how, or by what means other than a type of poison, and had no idea how the two men were related -- but apparently they were. They’d need to track down the connection.

After the machine turned off, Libby inhaled the coffee’s aroma and took a small sip from her mug. “Well, coffee and a bagel was all the guy consumed. We obviously didn’t do it, and I can’t see the bagel company having a reason, not knowing who would get what bagel. As for the coffee, I drank a cup myself and was fine. So where does that leave us?”

“Lost,” Rosie said as she dropped her head onto the kitchen table.

“Good morning, Dash,” Libby said, as the cat came to greet her.

"Mew." Dash circled the kitchen and then stopped to take a drink.

“They’re going to think I did it, but why would I? And I had nothing to do with the other guy in the other restaurant either. So the question becomes, why were they killed and who did it? Also, how am I going to buy time? Who do you think they’ll blame?” Rosie was in limbo between fear and frustration.

“I’ll call John and see if he has any information,” Libby offered.

“Oh, speaking of John Patterson, I dreamt the weirdest dream last night! I dreamt that you two were a couple, or used to be. You were breaking me out of prison, and you hesitated before helping him.”

“Would serve him right,” she said with a smirk. “Huh, imagine that.”

Rosie studied her mom’s face. Maybe it was the tone of her voice, the lack of surprise, or even amusement that left Rosie wondering how well her mother knew the man.

Libby offered no more clues. “I’m going to get cleaned up. Would you care to join me for breakfast over at Patterson’s Family Restaurant?”

“Do you think they’re still open?”

“As arrogant as that man can be, of course. He’ll feel like the world would collapse if people couldn’t come eat at his place.” She laughed at her own comment.

Rosie stood and stretched. “Yeah, sure, I’ll go if they’re open. Why not? We can talk to him and see if there’s a reason he thinks those two particular men were culled from the herd. In fact, I’m going to see if I can track down anything else about them online while you shower.”

Libby agreed it was a good idea. “Oh, ignore my latest post on Facebook if you happen across it.”

“Oh, fudge. What did you write now?” Her mother’s habit of stirring the pot was growing old. She was too quick to judge a situation and it was rare to keep her mouth shut.

“What? Why would you say that?” She didn’t answer, instead she slinked away.

“Mom…” Rosie followed her. “So you want me to see it or you don’t?”

Her mother shrugged. “Well, don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

“Great,” Rosie muttered. She went to her computer. She’d need to search for as much information as she could on the victims, but needed to make a pit stop first. Her eyes glazed over on reading the news. Rosie loudly called out to her mother. “You could have told me in person.”

Of all the mothers in the world, why couldn’t she have gotten a boring one, a normal one, or a mother that didn’t feel the need to tell everything to everyone – except her daughter? She forgot that part. At what point was she going to mention not only her change in status, but the statement that she was now involved with one very familiar John Patterson. Rosie smelled a skunk. Things weren’t adding up. So far, her mother was the only common link between the two restaurants and patrons, and she didn’t like it one bit.