Twenty-Two

Monday morning at both my shops was productive. Quite a few locals as well as some out-of-town visitors stopped in to buy lots of tasty treats for themselves and their dogs. We—initially Janelle, Vicky, and I—were quite busy.

It didn’t really slow down as lunchtime approached, and I was a bit concerned about leaving only two of my assistants there, but Frida arrived early and both she and Vicky encouraged me to go. In fact, they seemed to insist on it.

“It’s not like you don’t spend enough time here,” Vicky said, her black eyebrows raised beneath her glasses. We’d all gone into the kitchen for a minute to talk, leaving a few customers in both stores who were still checking out our merchandise and making up their minds. “Maybe I should start including you in my scheduling so you’d take a full day or two off now and then.”

“Forget that,” I told her.

“Well, you can forget about acting like Vicky and I can’t handle things here ourselves for a couple of hours,” Frida said, hands on her ample hips. “We’ll do so well that you’ll even consider giving both of us raises.”

“You wish,” was my retort to her, given with a smile. I felt a lot better after talking with both of them. Plus, I’d keep the timing of the lunch at a minimum—or at least try to.

And one of these days, if business continued as it had been, I would in fact give my assistants raises.

Part of rationing my timing today involved driving to the resort, since it was a pleasant but not extremely short walk. Janelle and I took Biscuit and Go, who was also at the Barkery today, out for a walk before we left, and then, after hugging the dogs goodbye, I drove the two of us.

Neal turned his part of the registration desk over to another guy as soon as we reached his area. He motioned for us to join him in a corner of the busy lobby before we headed into the restaurant.

“Just wanted to let you know, Carrie, that I made a special point of asking a few of my closest friends and coworkers who they’d seen Wanda with.” My tall brother slumped a little, as if trying to hide a bit from any prying eyes—his boss’s, I presumed. He was dressed in a nice shirt and trousers, as he usually was at work, a contrast to his casual home wear and hiking things. “I made it clear I didn’t want them to let Elise know I was asking, and I hinted that she seems to think her brother could be involved. I didn’t hint that you considered her a suspect, too.”

“Good,” I said. “Did anyone mention someone who’d talked with Wanda, someone I should follow up on?”

“Not really. A couple mentioned Jack, since he’s here enough for people to recognize. One remembered that dinner here on the patio where Jack first introduced Wanda, but he couldn’t recall who was with them—besides you and Billi Matlock and Reed. Oh, and Janelle and me, too, but I don’t think you need to follow up with us, either. Another one wondered if Wanda had introduced herself to any of the Ethmans, but that was just conjecture on his part. And a couple mentioned that the cops had been here once or twice asking questions but didn’t know if they learned anything. Anyway, I thought you should know I tried.”

“Thanks,” I said. “We know Wanda ate here a few times. Did you question any of the servers at the restaurant or bar?”

“No,” he said. “I thought that was part of the reason for our lunch today, at least in the restaurant.”

“True,” I said. “I just wondered.”

Since I’d left Biscuit with my assistants at the Barkery—yes, another service they rendered for me today and at other times, too—we chose a table inside the restaurant. Gwen waited on us often, and if I remembered correctly, she was the server on the patio the night so many of us had gotten together for dinner. If in fact she was, would she remember what happened?

And might she have been Wanda’s server on other occasions, with or without Jack? Had she paid any attention to who else Wanda had eaten with?

I figured it wouldn’t hurt to ask, so I whispered to Neal where I thought we should sit, and he agreed.

He spoke briefly with the hostess and we soon were seated at a table in the middle of an area where I’d seen Gwen working. As always, the resort’s restaurant had lots of patrons, the room resounding with the loud hum of many conversations, the air filled with tempting aromas. The hostess handed us menus, although we all probably had them memorized. I, at least, knew I’d order a Cobb salad.

In a minute a familiar female voice said, “Hi.” Gwen had appeared, table setups in her hands and a smile on her face. “Good to see all of you.” She placed the flatware she carried on the linen tablecloth. “What would you like to drink?”

I would have been happy with just water but ordered iced tea so our tab would increase, and so would Gwen’s tip. I observed her interaction with Neal and Janelle, and all seemed cordial as usual.

I wasn’t sure what the best time would be to ask Gwen my questions, but I figured this wasn’t it. I doubted that we could catch her during a break, either.

She probably would spend a little more time at this table when she took our lunch orders, so I decided that would be the time to broach the subject.

“What are you two getting today?” Janelle asked after Gwen had left. She and Neal had also ordered iced tea to drink. “I’m considering just a cup of Manhattan style clam chowder.”

“Barbecue sandwich for me,” Neal said. My brother seemed to eat hearty but didn’t gain weight—probably at least partly because of the hikes he led and those he took on his own.

We chatted for a couple of minutes about nothing important, and then Gwen returned. “What would you like today?” she asked when she’d put our drinks in front of us. Her expression appeared as interested and expectant as always.

How would she look in a minute, when I got off that topic completely?

I’d picked up the menu and tried to appear as if I were still deciding so she would ask Neal and Janelle first. When it was my turn, I didn’t immediately tell her what I wanted.

“I’ve got a question for you first,” I told her.

“Of course.” She must have assumed I was going to ask about food since her expression didn’t change—initially.

“I know this is a little—well, weird, but I’m trying to help some friends.”

That brought a look of concern to her face, but she didn’t say anything.

I smiled at her. “I know you’re an excellent server and you don’t interfere with anyone’s conversations or anything. And I know you’re aware of who Wanda Addler was.”

Her eyebrows knitted in a frown. “The lady who was killed? I didn’t know her, but I know her name.”

“Were you ever her server? I know she ate here now and then after she arrived in town.”

“Didn’t she join your table once or twice? I thought about that after … after I heard she died. But if she spent much time here otherwise, I really didn’t pay attention.” Gwen was beginning to look antsy, glancing down at the notepad in her hand where she wrote orders.

“Then you can’t tell us if she ever dined here with someone other than Jack?”

Surprisingly, Gwen gave me a small smile. “You’re at it again, aren’t you, Carrie? I know you were involved before, looking into those other killings.” She glanced away from me and toward Janelle, but not for long. “I admire you for that—I guess. But if you’re asking if I know anything about Wanda’s death, sorry, I don’t. I can ask around the kitchen if anyone else around here does, but you’re not the first, you know. The police came here a few days ago and asked if any of us knew who she was or saw anything … well, unusual about her. Or anyone with her. No one said anything useful, I gather. I certainly didn’t. But—well, good luck. Although from the news I think the police believe they have a couple of good persons of interest, right?”

“Maybe,” I said. “Anyway, I just thought I’d ask. Thanks. And please bring me a Cobb salad.”

 

Once she’d left, I looked from Neal to Janelle and back again. “That was useful,” I said sarcastically.

“At least you tried,” Neal said. “And I wasn’t aware that the police asked around the restaurant. I know they snooped here a little bit after Wanda was killed because they were looking into Jack, who comes here often, as a potential suspect. They asked a few questions even of us at the registration desk, but I don’t think anyone there had any answers. Maybe they even talked to Elise. Anyway, this turned out to be a dead end for you.”

“But as you said, at least I tried. And if Gwen knew anything, or knew of a server or anyone else who knew anything, I have the sense she would have told us—as gossip or whatever.”

“She’s obviously aware of how good you are at solving murders,” Janelle said, her smile on the wry side.

“I gather it wasn’t a surprise that you were a suspect last time,” I said to her. Then I turned slightly. “Now that we’re done with that, tell me your latest ideas for the next hike, Neal—it’ll be around Halloween, won’t it?”

“I might do one or two before, like my regular ones, since that would be easier,” Neal said. “For the Halloween one, I’ve changed my mind. I might try to set things up so the people on the hike can conduct a little trick-or-treat after all, at a few places. But I’ll need to make sure the home and business owners know in advance and are okay with it.”

We talked about his ideas, the timing, and how grueling he intended his Halloween hike to be. We were still discussing it when Gwen brought our meals.

“Enjoy,” she said with her server-smile back in place. “Oh, and I did ask a couple of people in the kitchen what they knew about the murdered lady and only got a lot of demands from them to explain why I’d asked and what I knew—nothing that’ll help you or the cops.”

“I figured that would be the case,” I said, “but it never hurts to inquire. Thanks for checking. And thanks for this, too.” I gestured around the table toward our food. “It all looks and smells good—and reminds me of one of the reasons I like to eat here.”

“One of the reasons?” Neal asked.

“Well, it never hurts that I get to say hi to my little brother when I’m here.” I looked up toward Gwen and winked.

 

We enjoyed the rest of our lunch. At least I did—since I didn’t ask more questions about the murder investigation.

I did still quiz Neal more about his upcoming hikes, though. I looked forward to participating in at least one of them—because it would be a diversion from the rest of my life, which I spent mostly baking and vet-teching. And, oh yes, solving murders.

That made me realize the extent of my frustration.

I tried to thrust it out of my mind as we talked and, afterward, when I paid for our lunches. After all, eating here—and being nosy—was something I’d wanted to do, and I did get a bit of a discount on the bill thanks to Neal being employed by the resort.

“Are you okay?” Janelle asked as I drove us back to the shops.

“Sure,” I said, then changed the subject to one I knew she’d believe was actually on my mind: how the Barkery and Icing were doing. Fortunately, the results remained positive.

More than positive. The two stores were a subject I never got tired of talking about—and hearing suggestions for. Janelle told me she’d search again for some websites where she could send some of the photos she’d taken to promote the stores.

I thanked her. A lot. And felt even more glad about our discussion.

I soon parked behind the shops, and we entered through the kitchen to wash our hands. Then I disappeared into my office to call Reed while she hurried into the Barkery to help out.

I sat at my desk, phone to my ear, and stared at my blank computer screen as if it contained all the answers to my strange and difficult mood.

“Are we still on for tonight?” I asked when he answered.

“Of course.” No hesitation.

Good.

But I wondered, through the rest of the afternoon, how I’d feel after I revealed to Reed more about the direction my mind was going.

I waited on customers in Icing first, then in the Barkery. And as I sold lots of dog treats I focused even more on the way my mind was heading.

When I solved the first murder, it was because I’d been the main suspect.

When I solved the second murder, it wasn’t only because Neal’s girlfriend Janelle was the main suspect. I had dogs in distress to rescue.

And now, with this latest murder, a couple of my friends appeared to be the primary suspects. But was that enough to keep me on this difficult path? Did I actually like solving murders, or was I just allowing myself to be drawn into the investigation because I considered helping my friends important?

Was I spending too much time on that, when I should be concentrating on my shops—and my part-time vet tech career?

Maybe I should stop. Now.

But I knew very soon, late that afternoon, why I wouldn’t.

Billi appeared in the Barkery around five o’clock. She had her dogs with her—Flip, her black Lab, and Fanny, her beagle mix.

I was behind the register counter, having just finished with a customer, and Janelle was helping a couple of teens who’d come in with a Bichon. Seeing Billi and her babies, I smiled—but that smile drooped immediately when I saw her tearful expression.

I slipped away immediately and rushed to greet her. “Hi,” I said, then whispered, “Are you all right?”

“Can you take Biscuit for a walk with us?” she asked, and I knew the answer.

She was definitely not all right. And I needed to know more.