“So,” Gamma said, “you’ve got an alibi for Mrs. Cruz, but not for Mia, Emmy, Mr. Scott, or the brother.”
“I kind of have an alibi for Emmy and the brother, but I can’t actually prove it because I can’t talk to Emmy at all,” I said. “Her father’s protecting her.”
Gamma wriggled her nose from side-to-side, considering.
“I don’t get why he would need to protect her unless he’s got something to hide?”
Another nose wriggle.
“You have, effectively, a crime scene that doesn’t exist since you never saw it, no murder weapon, hardly any alibis, and barely a lead. Short of breaking into every suspects house, which we could do, you don’t have anything.”
“And even if I did break into every suspect's house,” I said, “there’s no guarantee I’ll find the evidence I need. It’s not like there was any surveillance footage.”
“Surveillance footage.” Gamma’s sentence came out as a murmur. “Surveillance footage.”
“What is it?”
“Just a thought. You mentioned earlier in the week that you spoke to Josie about the shortcake that was found at the scene, correct?” Gamma asked.
“Yes. And she told me that the victim picked up a box of shortcake every Monday without fail.”
“But where did he go after?” Gamma asked. “Did Josie say anything about that?”
I wracked my brain.
“Oh.” It hit me fast as lightning. “Yeah, she did. She told me that Donny exited The Little Cake Shop and turned left on the sidewalk, heading toward The Hungry Steer.”
“Start the car,” Gamma said.
I did, immediately, clipping on my seatbelt. “The Hungry Steer?”
“Grayson Tombs is as miserly as they come. If anyone’s going to have surveillance cameras it’s him, especially after the issues he had with his son.”
That felt like years ago. Technically it had been. “Then to the Hungry Steer we go. Though, I don’t know that the footage will help. It’s not like we’ll see him being stabbed.”
Then again, any lead was good at this point. The truth was, as much as I’d loved investigating the case, asking questions of the suspects and so on, I was stuck in another way.
Stuck on how I felt about my interaction with Goode on our date, stuck on leaving the inn. After the scare I’d just had with my grandmother, how could I possibly do that? How would life ever be the same when I wasn’t living in the Gossip Inn?
“Charlotte, you do realize we actually have to drive down the road to get to the Hungry Steer, don’t you?” My grandmother’s whip-sharp tone brought me back down to Earth with a bump.
“Right,” I said, grinning.
I banished the negative, confused thoughts for another time. Today, we had a case to solve, and finally, I had my grandmother on my side.
“And why should I talk to you about anything related to a murder case?” Grayson Tombs sat behind his massive walnut desk in his office at the Hungry Steer, looking like the cat who’d caught the fattest of rats.
“Because it’s right thing to do, Mr. Tombs,” Gamma said.
And my grandmother will incapacitate you if you don’t. But of course Gamma wouldn’t do that to an upstanding citizen of Gossip. At least not where anyone could see. Or where he could scream and alert anyone.
“I haven’t talked to you in years,” Tombs said, pressing his lips outward like a little fountain. “I don’t feel like starting now.”
“I’ve got to be honest with you, Mr. Tombs,” Gamma said, “I don’t quite give a flying rat’s butt what you do or don’t feel like doing. Your happiness is the least of my concerns.”
Tombs pressed himself backward in his fancy leather chair, so far back that he grew double chins and looked as if he was an astronaut under severe G-force.
“What I care about, Mr. Tombs, is finding out what happened to a member of our upstanding society.”
Tombs cleared his throat and relaxed a little. “I would hardly call Donny Braxton an upstanding member of our society. Not Gossip society.” Tombs had a very gently twang to his accent. An affectation, I was sure.
“I should extend the list of things I don’t care about to what you think,” Gamma said.
“You’re being awful rude, Georgina. Haven’t you heard the saying that you’ll catch more flies with honey?”
“I only have the patience to swat flies.”
“Is that a threat?”
“I don’t make threats,” Gamma said, in that dangerous, quiet tone. The one that made most men jerk themselves straight before she corrected them forcibly.
Oh man, that Doctor Puddles has no idea what he’s gotten himself into.
“Why should I show you my surveillance footage? Why shouldn’t I take it to the police?” Grayson smirked.
Gamma got up from her chair so suddenly, even I started.
She circled the desk, keeping her gaze on Grayson every step of the way, her heels clacking on the wooden boards.
“Mr. Tombs,” she said. “I’m going to give you a final opportunity to do as I’ve asked.”
Oh, this wouldn’t end well. I didn’t question my grandmother here. She was getting appropriately serious given the situation, and if I was honest, Mr. Tombs had it coming. Before Lauren had had her first son, Tyke, Mr. Tombs had been obsessed with her. He’d made her highly uncomfortable. He’d demanded to see her and bothered us at the inn.
“I won’t bow to a little old lady’s threats,” Grayson said.
“Charlotte.”
That was all I needed. I got up from my squeaky chair—much less impressive than Grayson’s—and moved to the office door. I locked it.
“What on earth are you doing?” Grayson asked. “Unlock that door, right now.”
Gamma reached the back of his chair. She extended two fingers and pressed them into his neck. He stiffened, still conscious, his eyes wide and staring directly ahead.
“You won’t remember this when you wake up, Mr. Tombs,” Gamma said. “I want you to know that this was a necessity, but I do take pleasure in it.”
I grinned at my grandmother. Honestly, this was pretty terrifying for Tombs. He didn’t know what was about to happen.
“I’m going to direct you, and you’re going to do as I say, do you understand?” Gamma shifted slightly. “Raise your hand if you understand.”
Tombs raised his hands.
“Wonderful. Now, open your laptop and locate the surveillance footage.”
“You’re not worried he’ll yell?” I asked.
“He can’t,” she replied.
I didn’t bother asking. My grandmother had studied every martial artform known to man and several that weren’t. Tombs would have to do exactly as she asked.
And he did. He opened his laptop and navigated to the surveillance footage, inputting passwords where necessary. Gamma found the correct day of footage and sent it directly to her burner email address, then had him delete the email.
“Now,” she said, removing a tiny pill from her ring. “You’re going to crush this between your teeth. When you wake up, you won’t remember anything. I want you to know, Mr. Tombs, that I abhor the way you treated my chef, but your business is quite well-run.” She inserted the pill between his teeth, released the grip on his neck, then forced his teeth closed like he was a particularly stubborn cat being fed medicine.
Grayson passed out before he could call out for help.
“He runs his business quite well?” I asked.
“I like to end an interrogation with a compliment,” Gamma said. “It feels polite. Especially when I’m taking information from a person against their will. Now, do you really want to hang around talking about that, or do you want to find out who murdered Donny Braxton?”