Scrambled to Death: A Sage and Dash Cozy Mystery (5 page)

Christopher Banks and Peyton Darling had one thing in common. They both dealt with ex-wives. While Christopher and Dora’s divorce had gone through, Peyton had been dragging his heels and stepping on Nancy’s toes, crushing her dreams every chance he got.

Nancy Darling wasn’t the kind of woman to make a scene. She was a mousy woman, but smart and savvy just the same. She liked people to underestimate her and could be a bit manipulative. Though, when it came to the pair of Peyton and Nancy, she was the person locals rooted for.

Peyton, well, he was shady at times. He’d have a sudden back injury from out of nowhere and be collecting disability more times than you could count on one hand. Rosie only knew about it because Alyssa from the post office gossiped about him time to time, when he’d come in to sign for his checks. It was the only way he could get them delivered, due to his habitual patterns. The law was probably onto him, but without proof…

Rosie figured it wouldn’t hurt to drop by and talk to Nancy. She owned a gift shop right down the road. It stood next to her brother’s smokehouse. Charlie Staggs made sure she was set up after Peyton destroyed her bed and breakfast. When their mother passed early, Charlie stepped in and watched out for his little sister.

Rosie sent Libby back to the restaurant to open up, and told her she’d be there shortly. She wanted to have a quick talk with Nancy to see what she knew. Rosie thought it was better not to overwhelm her with too many questions, and her mother could be a little pushy. Libby reluctantly agreed and started back to the restaurant.

Rosie turned the corner after she left the Sheriff’s office. The sheriff and police shared space in one common building. It’s not like there were many of either in their town. With a sheriff and a small police department, they were lucky to have their own emergency services in town, as plenty of areas around them were combining into regional group responders to save money on budget costs.

Nancy’s gift shop displayed a small open sign that hung in the glass paneled door. Rosie tried not to notice that the sign was off-center and resisted the urge to fix it once she got inside. With a quick hop and step, she climbed the small set of concrete stairs, then opened the door. Bells jingled, letting Nancy know that a customer entered her store.

She popped in from a back room. Nancy’s shoulder-length, straight, brown hair lacked any depth or sparkle. It’s as if she’d chosen a dull shade to tone down anything nature might have intended. She pushed her silver frame glasses up onto her nose and smiled. It wasn’t a warm smile. It was more like a condescending ‘what do you want’ smile. “Oh, hi Rosie. What brings you here? How can I help you?”

“I was hoping we could talk,” Rosie started. She twisted her fingers together, not sure how to address the awkward topic. “Peyton’s death has become somewhat of a mystery. Do you know anyone who would want him…dead?”

Nancy scowled at Rosie, then rambled out of discomfort. “Do you mean besides me? What are you really asking me? Did I do it? Well, I didn’t.”

“I wasn’t insinuating… Okay, that’s not fair. Let me start over,” Rosie said as she tried to untangle her first mistake. “Nancy, Peyton dropped from his seat while eating breakfast at my restaurant. I have as much of a reason to want to find answers as you do. Don’t you want to show everyone that you weren’t the reason that he died? Most people know you’re involved in a messy divorce situation. Since you didn’t do it, don’t you want to know who did?”

She eyed Rosie up and down and held her tongue. She wanted to zap and snip like a viper, but instead she remained calm. “I really don’t care who did it.”

The door bells jingled. Rosie startled and spun around, though she already knew who it was before she turned.

Libby cleared her throat. It was a sound Rosie knew well. It was never a quick thing, her mother always dragged it out, doing it multiple times, her voice pitched high as if she were begging for attention. Okay, so maybe she was biased. Her mother did a lot of things that drove her crazy, but most people would probably never notice.

“There you are, Rosemary. I need help,” Libby started.

“Mom, not now…”

Libby ignored her daughter and nudged into the conversation. Nancy watched the two women interact and Rosie stiffen up. There was definitely tension between mother and daughter.

“So, Peyton’s dead. Who do you think did it?” Libby posed to Nancy. “Obviously, you’re not going to fess up -- so if you had to figure it out, how do you think the two murders are connected?”

“Wow, going right for the gusto,” Rosie groaned. “Classy, Mom.”

“What? You want me to tiptoe around it, kiddo? A man is dead, a sheriff was questioning us, and business is slow. I don’t know about you, but I can’t afford for our business to tank. We’ve worked too hard for this. If Nancy knows anything, then maybe we have a shot of figuring this out.”

Nancy's pinched nose wasn't doing a good job of holding her glasses up. They slid down the tiniest bit. Without thinking, she reached up and pushed them back in place. “Let’s say I did know something… Why would I tell you? Why wouldn’t I talk to the police? I mean, really, what are you going to do about it?”

“How about helping one of your neighboring businesses,” Libby answered robustly, as if there was any other answer. “I thought we were friends.”

“Is that what you’re calling it these days?” The woman sneered at Libby. “Let’s let the past rest where it belongs. Anyway, I was out of town when it happened, and I haven’t heard anything. I was in Gettysburg and Fredericksburg to look at antiques for the shop. I’ve already been questioned, and I have hotel receipts to prove my whereabouts, along with a gas station receipt.”

Rosie sighed. “Thanks, Nancy. I’m sorry. It’s a weird situation. I’m trying to save my business, and until I can prove who did it, the spotlight will remain on me.”

Nancy nodded. “Fair enough.”

Rosie thanked Nancy for her time and then left the shop with Libby.

Libby whispered. “I’ll bet she knows more than she’s letting on.”

“I’m going to see if Jeff is over at the fire station.” She glanced at her watch. He would be taking appointments most of the day, but other days were slower. His veterinarian office was over one town, but his free time was usually at home or at the fire station kibitzing with the other volunteers.

Libby smiled. “I can go with you. I’ve got nothing but time.”

“Mom, please…” Rosie looked for a polite way to say no. “I’d sort of like to talk to him alone. Just the two of us, okay?”

“Oh,” she said, nudging her daughter’s arm. “Finally going to make a move on the handsome guy?”

“Really?” Rosie shook her head…so much for being polite. “Mom, please leave me alone for a few minutes, okay? You go barging in, spitting things out, and some of this stuff needs to be handled delicately.”

Libby pouted. “It’s okay. You can go without me. I’ll go sit with Dash. At least he still likes my company.”

Rosie groaned. How did she end up feeling guilty all the time?

When Rosie arrived at the fire department, Jeff was already gone for the day. She’d give him a ring later and see if he’d heard any news. A lot of the firemen and cops socialized together and word had a way of slipping out if interesting news or gossip came up.

Rosie tried to focus on things she needed to do, but her mind circled back to the dead men. Disheartened that the sheriff seemed stuck, Rosie knew if she didn’t push for answers, somebody might get away with two heinous crimes.

Rosie made her way back to the restaurant. She was pleased to see her mother behind the counter.

“Things are dead around here,” Libby started tongue in cheek. “I’m dying to see a few customers. In fact, I’ve got a great idea for a killer special.”

Rosie cringed. Leave it to her mother. “Isn’t it a little soon?”

“Oh, lighten up. I’m trying to lift my spirits. We can’t afford for business to stay this slow,” she warned. “If things don’t pick up, we’re going to be in trouble. It’s not like we have a lot of emergency funds tucked away. Things are pretty tight.”

Rosie agreed. “People will come back. Hopefully, sooner than later. I’m going to grab Jeff’s number and give him a shout. He already left for work. I want to see if he’s got anymore news.”

“No hurry,” Libby teased. “I can handle the crowd.”

Rosie slipped through the door that connected their house to the restaurant. Dash greeted her with a meow. “Hey Dash.” She reached down to scratch him behind his ear before picking up her phone. As she scanned through the list of contacts, she found Jeff’s information. She opted to call his personal line over the office number.

Rosie walked to the cabinet and took a small container of cat treats out. She sprinkled a couple on the floor next to Dash, then hit dial on her phone. It went straight to voicemail. She left a brief message, then sat with the cat. She needed to talk to somebody, and Dash was a good listener. Not that he answered, but he did keep her secrets.

“Yeah, I know… You don’t have to point it out. You know, don’t you? You’re perceptive like that. Okay, so I like the guy, that’s true, but I’m not sure the feeling is mutual. It’s not like he’s asked me out. I’m not even sure I’d say yes. Probably not, it’s not worth risking our friendship. I know, it’s been a while since I’ve been on a date, but things are less complicated this way. Mom’s had enough boyfriends for the two of us. Things never end well anyway,” she said.

Dash mewed in response. Rosie ran her fingers through his coat a few times, then got up to wash her hands. Back at the restaurant, she was pleasantly surprised to see customers. Her mother was talking to Myrtle and Gloria.

Myrtle’s voice went down to a whisper. “Well, I heard that there may be more to this than meets the eye. In fact, our very own Sheriff may have dirty hands. He never liked Christopher Banks. Everybody knows it’s true; it’s not like it’s a secret. What if he’s investigating to cover up his own crime? Trying to pin it on somebody else, you know?”

Libby laughed at Myrtle’s latest gossip. “Gary Snyder isn’t smart enough to pull that off.”

Myrtle looked strangely at Libby. “Of course, he is. When you have access to the information, and you’re the one signing the reports, you can write whatever you want, dear. It’s only a crime if you’re caught.”

Rosie joined in the conversation. “What were you saying?”

Gloria’s high-pitched voice overrode the others. “Can I at least put my order in first? I’m starving.”

“Sure,” Libby said. “What can I get for you?”

Myrtle looked annoyed at having been interrupted. She was at her best when she was riding high on the gossip, spilling secrets left and right. “Fine, if we must.”

After taking their orders, Libby went back to the kitchen. Rosie asked Myrtle what she’d heard.

“Well, maybe Gary didn’t do it, but he could be covering up for somebody else, like a mistress, or a friend, or one of the cops. You don’t know! I heard that while one of the witnesses was giving a statement over at Patterson’s, he wasn’t even writing it down. He was simply scribbling on his note pad, like doodling.”

“What?” Gloria corrected her. “No, stick figures, right? He was scribbling people.”

“Doodles, scribbling, stick figures…what difference does it make? Really, Gloria, I hope you’re not as critical when you get food in you. Your grumpy lady is coming out,” Myrtle sniped.

Gloria looked away and shook her head. She bit her tongue so as not to offend Myrtle. You didn’t want to be on Myrtle’s bad side or all your secrets might come flooding out, and Gloria had her own fair share of secrets she’d let go of. Myrtle housed them all.

“Anyway, why wasn’t he taking it seriously? Why wasn’t he writing stuff down? And then when the police showed up…well, I heard that he made a lame excuse, like he was going to call everyone down for official statements over at the Sheriff’s office. If you ask me, something’s fishy.” Myrtle finished, then licked her lips as her stomach growled. “Oh dear, I am hungry.”

Rosie hated that she fell into the gossip with them, but at this point with two dead people, it was fair game. “I talked to Nancy. She was out of town. She’s got a solid alibi, so she’s off the list. I’m going to track down Dora and see if she knows anything. I heard they cleared her. They searched her stuff and there wasn’t a trace of evidence. I have no idea who to even add to my suspect list. I’m still stuck on how they’re connected, but they think it was one person, due to the same poison being used on each.”

Myrtle hushed her voice. “Does that boyfriend of yours know anything?”

Rosie scrunched her face. “Boyfriend? I don’t have a boyfriend.”

“You don’t? I always see you talking with that fireman. You know the one, Dr. Tucker,” she added with a wink.

Rosie nervously laughed, taken off guard. Heat rushed to her cheeks. “He’s not my boyfriend.”

“Oh, well,
there’s
something I didn’t know. I’d assumed.”

Gloria chimed in. “You know what they say about assuming…”

Myrtle shot Gloria a look. “That’s enough out of you.”

When their food arrived, the women were ready to eat. Rosie left them to their lunch, and followed her mother back into the kitchen. “What do you think of her theory?”

Libby shook her head vigorously as she answered. “Nope, he couldn’t pull it off. There are too many pieces of the puzzle for him to figure it all out and get away with it. Besides, I don’t see him having a strong motive, do you?”

“I guess not. I’ll be honest, after Dora was cleared and Nancy’s alibi cleared her, I don’t know what to think. I’m going to talk to Dora and see if she can clue me into anything. All we’ve got to go on is the food, poison, and not much else. I don’t even know what kind of poison they used. Hopefully, Jeff will know and we can follow that lead. Where does one buy poison? Is it legal? Or do you need access to it?”

“I don’t know, but doctors might have access to poison…”

“Don’t even go there. He’s not a killer!”

Libby agreed. “Keep your mind open to possibilities. You never know. Anyway, since it’s quiet, I’m going to tend to my herbs and garden. Next week I’m going into town to pick up a few more essential oils.”

Rosie nodded. She didn’t get into the homeopathic and natural woo-woo stuff her mother did. It’s not that she didn’t think it could work, but she was more into scientific answers over – an oil that has transforming presence and things that work with your energy and aura. Her mother had been into homeopathic medicine most of her life. So, when Rosie got a cold, she was given elixirs of herbal teas or she'd be smudged with ‘sacred herbs’ and the such. Her mother was no Native American healer or Australian Indigenous doctor, instead she made her own concoctions based on what felt right to her. Had she studied the art, maybe Rosie would have a better feeling about it. Of course, a simple trip to get cough medicine worked wonders, but her mother would glare at her for taking a horrible man-made drug that would ruin her immune system. They had different ways of looking at medicine.