The Pickled Piper (18 page)

“You can?” Amy cried. Piper was interested, too, though she thought she knew who Tina was going to name.

“Charlotte Hosch has finally tipped her hand!” Tina stated firmly.

Piper wasn't at all sure that would be the case. But she waited to hear what Tina would say.

“W
hat did Charlotte Hosch do that convinces you she's a murderer?” Piper asked, dearly hoping no customer would walk into the pickling shop in the midst of Tina's explanation. Tina looked agitated, her movements and breathing rapid, and Piper could foresee a dramatic tale coming. Whether or not it would be something to share with Sheriff Carlyle was yet to be determined.

“I saw it! I saw it this morning!” Tina said.

“Saw what?” Piper asked.

“The white paint can! It was in Charlotte's trash. The can for the white paint she threw on your front brick.”

“You searched through Charlotte's trash?”

Tina shook her head. “I was in her alley early this morning. I couldn't sleep, so I got up early and went for a walk. I went farther than I meant to, so I took the shortcut through her alley to get back to my place. The recycling truck had just pulled in there, and I saw them dumping out Charlotte's bin. The paint can tumbled out along with all the newspapers and bottles. I saw it clear as day!”

“A white paint can?” Piper asked.

Tina must have heard the uncertainty in Piper's voice, since her “Yes!” came out at least half an octave higher. “Don't you see? This proves Charlotte is the vandal! She's been trying to scare you away from looking into the murders. She's petrified that you'll find her out, and this is her way of stopping you!”

“That could be true,” Piper said cautiously. “Or it could also be that Charlotte was doing a little touch-up work at her shop.”

“Did you get hold of it?” Amy asked. “Maybe there's a way of matching the paint. They do that kind of thing on
CSI
all the time. Your splotch hasn't been cleaned off yet, Piper.”

“No, it hasn't,” Piper agreed, grimacing, since that had been a matter of increasing annoyance for her.

“The recycling truck drove off before I could think fast enough to stop them,” Tina said. “Who knows where that can is now? So I guess I can't prove anything, huh?” She looked crestfallen.

“I'm afraid not,” Piper said. “But it's definitely information to keep in mind.”

“I'm just so sure Charlotte is behind all this,” Tina continued. “You may not believe that yet, but I'll find a way to convince you. And the sheriff. Why oh why didn't I grab at that paint can the minute I saw it?”

Tina looked so wretched that Piper rushed to reassure her. “We have three other strong suspects, Tina. They all have stronger motives than Charlotte, miserable a person though she may be.”

“Right!” Amy added. “And Mr. Williams has started working with us. He knows his way around an investigation, what with all the detective novels he's read. With all of us putting our heads together, I know we'll clear Nate in no time.”

“Gil Williams is helping?” Tina looked surprised.

“He's been great,” Piper said. “Once he realized what a predicament Nate was caught in, he was completely willing to get involved.”

“I just never thought of Gil doing anything like that,” Tina said. “He always seemed so reclusive and absorbed in his books. But . . . that's great! As you said, the more people working on the case, the better.”

Tina looked somewhat encouraged, so Piper gave her an update on what she'd learned about Ralph Farber and Robby Taylor since they last talked. Tina nodded and appeared at least marginally willing to expand her suspicions beyond Charlotte Hosch. By the time she was ready to leave, Tina seemed less hell-bent on dragging the candy maker off to the sheriff's office, which was a relief to Piper. When Piper first asked for Tina's help, she had hoped only for the odd tidbit the coffee shop owner might pick up in the course of her day. She never envisioned bringing on stress and sleeplessness for anyone. At the door, Piper grabbed a jar of tea jelly from a nearby table and handed it to Tina.

“It's something I've never tried before,” she said. “It's made with chamomile citron tea and green apple pectin stock. Let me know how you like it.”

As Piper watched the coffee shop owner trudge back to her place, Amy commented from behind, “That was nice of you.”

Piper turned. “If I can picture the chamomile working its soothing magic on Tina, at least a little, I'll feel better for causing the stress in the first place.”

“The best stress relief for all of us,” Amy said, “will be coming to the end of this investigation and putting the real murderer in jail.”

“Amen to that.” Piper saw Amy's face brighten as her eyes shifted over Piper's shoulder. Piper turned. Nate was heading their way from the bookshop.

“Hi!” he said as he pushed through Piper's Picklings' door. “Gil sent me off on a lunch break. Mind if I pick up something and bring it back here?”

“Darn!” Amy said, stamping her foot. “I meant to bring along the leftover beef bourguignon that we all took home from the restaurant last night. With your move into the new apartment on my mind this morning, I walked off without it.”

Piper remembered Amy calling Nate over to the A La Carte kitchen after his performance the other night and knew Nate's food budget must be stretched pretty thin now that he was no longer working at the restaurant. A bookshop offered food for the soul but did nothing for the stomach.

“I still have a bunch of Aunt Judy's tomatoes upstairs that I'll never finish. And I have some nice bread in the freezer. Why don't you two run up and make sandwiches for us all?”

“Really?” Both Amy's and Nate's faces lit up. “That'd be great.” Amy led the way as they trotted up to Piper's apartment, and Piper's mouth began to water at the very thought of the gourmet sandwiches Amy would likely throw together. No mere sliced tomato and mayo would suffice for her.

Within minutes all three were seated in Piper's workroom, munching on tasty concoctions of crusty bread, mozzarella, tomato, basil, and Piper didn't know what else. All she knew was that it was delicious. She remembered Will's comment about the ladies of Cloverdale likely to look after Nate's care and feeding and made a mental note to put a bee in Aunt Judy's bonnet in case it wasn't buzzing around in there already.

As they ate, Amy brought up their earlier discussion with Gil Williams on possible suspects.

“Yeah,” Nate said, taking a swig from one of three bottles of green tea Piper had pulled from her workroom refrigerator. He brushed his dark blond hair—in definite need of a trim, Piper noticed—away from his face. “Gil was telling me about that. It's weird how many people had a reason to knock off Alan Rosemont.” He scowled. “And I was one of them, I guess. But I never acted on it.”

“That's what I keep trying to tell Daddy,” Amy said. “He should be looking at these other people.”

“We don't know that he isn't,” Piper said.

“And we don't know that he is,” Amy said, her lips pressing into a thin line.

“Amy,” Nate said, “I don't want to cause trouble between you and your dad. I really appreciate what you guys are doing on my behalf. But why don't I take it over from here?”

“Nate!” Amy cried.

“I mean it. For one thing, I don't like that stuff that's been happening to you, Piper. It could be fallout from all the questions you've been asking about this case.”

“What's happened is more annoying than worrying,” Piper said.

“For now,” Nate said. “What if it escalates? I wouldn't be able to live with myself if you—or anyone else”—he glanced at Amy—“got hurt because of me.”

“It wouldn't be because of you,” Amy insisted. “If anything happened—which it won't—it would be because of someone who should be in jail for what they've done!”

“It's too late to call us off, anyway,” Piper said with a smile. “It's just too darned interesting. I'm learning things about the people of Cloverdale I never would have known otherwise.” She told them the story of Robby Taylor's grandfather and the gypsy woman from Rochester, which had them chortling.

“Why don't I see what I can dig up about Taylor's financial situation,” Nate said. “I think Gil will let me use his computer off-hours.”

“That'd be great,” Piper said. “But what can you expect to find? Isn't most credit info off limits without a person's permission?”

“It is, but I may know one or two ways of getting around that. I'll give them a try and see if they still work.”

“One or two ways?” Amy asked. “Where would you have picked up anything like that?”

Nate flushed slightly. “Oh, just from people I used to know. No big thing. Hey, thanks for these great sandwiches, both of you. I'd better be getting back. Gotta make a good impression my first day on the job.” Nate picked up his plate, but Amy took it from him.

“I'll clean these up. You go on. Sell a lot of books. And dig up a lot of dirt on Robby Taylor!”

“I'll do my best,” Nate said, grinning, but then he sobered. “And be careful, both of you.” With that, he took off, leaving Piper and Amy to their own, unspoken thoughts.

• • •

L
ater that afternoon and shortly before Amy would leave for her second job at A La Carte, Ben Schaeffer walked into Piper's Picklings. He had on a white shirt and striped tie rather than his auxiliary officer uniform, which told Piper he'd come from his insurance office. But he still managed to project an officer-on-duty attitude, nonofficial though that was. At least until Amy stepped out from the back room. Then his sternness melted to mush.

“Hi, Ben,” Amy said cheerily. “What's up?”

“Hi! Oh, um, not much.” Ben shifted from one foot to the other, fidgeted with his tie, and slipped his hands in and out of his pockets, suddenly looking, Piper thought, more like a middle-school adolescent than the competent businessman he was.

She took pity on him and asked, “How's the insurance business going?”

Ben matured several years at the question. “Not too bad,” he said, straightening. “We have a new small business policy that covers things you might not have thought of if you'd like to look it over.”

“I think I'm fine for now, Ben, thanks.”

He nodded. “But that's not what I'm here for. I wanted to offer a word of warning to you both.”

“Oh?”

Piper saw Amy's cheeriness dim, though Ben seemed oblivious.

“I've just become aware that that musician has moved in next door.” Ben jerked his chin toward the bookshop.

“That musician has a name,” Amy said, her smile grown stiff. “It's Nate Purdy.”

“Yes, yes, of course,” Ben said with a brushing away gesture as though Nate's name had no importance. That bothered Piper as much as anything, erasing much of the pity she'd felt earlier for the man.

“And I know,” Ben continued, digging himself in deeper, “that you tend to see only the good side of people, Amy, but I think you should be very cautious about any dealings with this, uh, with Purdy. We have reason to believe—”

“You have no reason WHAT-SO-EVER to believe anything bad about Nate!” Amy blurted.

Her vehemence caught Ben off guard, and he rocked backward.

“That's not exactly—” he began, but Amy would have none of it.

Her eyes flashed. “I don't know what you and my father have against Nate that you can be so eager to convict him of something he would never, ever do. But I'm telling you, Ben Schaeffer, that you'd better stop it right now or you'll have me to answer to.”

“Amy,” Ben pleaded, “it's nothing personal. You only have to look at the facts.”

“Facts?” Amy cried. “What facts?”

Ben stiffened, standing his ground. “He was seen in a vicious argument with Rosemont only hours before he was murdered. It nearly came to blows.”

“But it didn't, did it?” Amy countered. Her face flushed, and Piper wondered if Amy was thinking how close that fight at the fair had actually come to getting physical. If Amy hadn't been there and called out to Nate, would he have walked away from the confrontation?

“He has no alibi for the night of the murder,” Ben went on, still blindly trying to bring Amy around to his own way of thinking. “And even worse, he was actually seen entering the alley at the very time Dennis Isley was killed.”

“Ben Schaeffer, you're horrible!” Amy cried. “You've been putting terrible thoughts in my father's ear. It's all because of
you
that Nate is being persecuted. Go!” she said, pointing at the door. “Get out of here! I never want to see you again.”

Ben's face showed the complete shock he must have been feeling. “But I was only trying to protect—”

“Out!” Amy's face was florid as she continued to jab her finger at the exit.

Ben backed away, still obviously confused over Amy's reaction. Hadn't he been doing all he did for her own good? Why didn't she see that? “I'm, ah, that is, okay, I'll go. But—”

Amy shook her outstretched hand again toward the door. Ben turned and stumbled out onto the sidewalk, venturing a single look back to see if the creature who'd somehow taken over Amy's body had returned it to the sweet, lovable young woman he knew. Then he dashed off, disappearing quickly.

Amy sank onto one of Piper's stools and crumbled into tears. “I'm sorry. I shouldn't have done that. It's your store. I shouldn't have done that.”

“Completely understandable,” Piper said, wrapping her arms around her assistant's shoulders and leaning a cheek on the top of her head. “You've been under a lot of stress. Ben was the last straw.”

“I just couldn't stand listening to what he was saying. And he's probably not the only one saying it. The awful thing is that he almost had me doubting Nate for a second. What does that mean, then, for all the people who don't know Nate as well as I do?” Amy wiped her eyes and pulled herself together. “We really have to do something, Piper. And we have to do it fast.”