Nineteen

Having just discovered the source of the poison that killed Jeb, and the fact that Grandma Jenn’s blender was involved, Tay and I felt a pressing need to leave the processing shed and get back to the inn as quickly possible. We made for the front door, hoping to beat Tate, who’d be coming from the other direction. From the sound of the tractor I could tell that he was still on Lighthouse Road, although he was swiftly closing the distance. Tay poked her head out the door, making sure the coast was clear. I was about to slip by her when she blocked me with her arm and quietly shut it again. “Dammit,” she breathed.

“What? Tate’s here? Already?” I couldn’t believe it.

“Not Tate. It’s far worse. Jack’s here, and he’s got the crime scene unit from Sturgeon Bay with him. We can’t go out there—especially not with that!” She pointed to the base of Grandma Jenn’s blender tucked under my arm.

I had to admit, it didn’t look good. It looked like I was trying to tamper with crime scene evidence, which I most definitely was. It was becoming a disturbing habit. After all, I’d taken a cherry pit from the crime scene in the orchard, and now I was lifting the base of the blender that had been used to make the poison. What the heck was happening to me? All this sleuthing was getting under my skin. I was growing shifty. I was suspicious of nearly everyone and everything. Heck, even the orchard seemed menacing to me now. Truthfully, I’d never considered taking anything from the processing shed … until Tay had dropped her secret little bombshell on me. Jeb Carlson and Grandma Jenn having a torrid affair! But really, all the signs were there. Had I been paying more attention to my family, I might have figured it out myself instead of being blindsided by the salacious details. But I’d now heard them. There was no unhearing that kind of thing.

And I had seen the look on Grandma Jenn’s face when she’d heard we were going to the orchard. Then, too, there was Tay’s offhanded remark about poison being a woman’s weapon. Would Grandma Jenn even know how to make poison? Of course she would! She was smart, charmingly devious, knew everything there was to know about cherries, and was alarmingly well-versed in weird Scandinavian superstition. She also had the internet. But would she knowingly harm anyone? I couldn’t believe that she would. So why was her blender in the break room kitchen? Why had it been used to pulverize cherry pits and steep them in Jeb’s rum? Why had it been so thoroughly washed in the dishwasher? Those questions had prompted me to grab the blender. Mother-loving fudgeballs, I had to! It had my gran’s name on it! What else was a granddaughter to do?

Probably think more clearly before covering crime scene evidence with her fingerprints, I mentally berated myself—after the blender was already in my hands.

There was nothing else for it now. I had to get to Grandma Jenn before Jack came pounding on her door, which he eventually would. There was a gold mine of evidence in Jeb’s office. And Jack was a good detective. I may have pointed out the cherry pits at the crime scene to him, but I was pretty darn sure he was well-versed in cyanide poisoning, including all the ways to make it.

Beyond the door came the crunching of boots on gravel. Jack and his team were swiftly approaching. If he found me in the processing shed with the blender in my arms—after warning me not to snoop around—he’d likely have me arrested. Heck, I’d have me arrested.

“Quick!” I whispered to Tay, and we darted back the way we’d come. We were in the break room when we heard Jack’s voice. It sent a wave of pure terror shooting through me. He was in the building, briefing the people who’d accompanied him.

“Is there another way out of here?” Tay croaked in a panicked whisper.

“There’s the side entrance the employees use. Come on.” I headed for the back hallway.

Tay grabbed my arm and stopped me. “Put that damn thing back,” she hissed.

“I’d love to. But my fingerprints are all over it.” Which was the God’s honest truth. And there was no way I wanted Jack to find out I’d been here.

However, I imagined he would be happy to learn I was being punished for my momentary lapse in judgement, because while Jack and the investigative unit from Sturgeon Bay were slowly sweeping through the building, working their way toward us, Tate and the orchard tour had finally arrived. They were staying well clear of the police as Tate gave a little spiel about the processing sheds, which was wise. Unfortunately, he’d parked the hayride six feet from the side door. Sneaking back into the orchard with the clunky crime scene blender tucked under my sweatshirt was no longer an option.

We were squatting beside the door when I whispered a new plan. “We could wait until Tate leaves, but it’s risky. Jack might find us first. Therefore, I propose we shoot for the woods, make our way down to the shoreline, and work our way back to the inn from there. Okay?”

“Sure. No problem,” Tay whispered back sarcastically. “So, we just saunter out there like no big deal, waving to Tate and the twenty other people with him while you try to hide that blender under your shirt? Are you nuts?”

I held up my iPhone. “You forget. We have a team member on board. I’m sure I can induce Hannah to tear herself away from Briz long enough to create a diversion.”

Tay’s eyes flew wide with caution. But it was too late. I’d already pressed send, cringing slightly as I did so. After all, the message—Imperative! Create Diversion NOW!!—could be interpreted in many ways.

For Hannah, it apparently meant a random, blood-curdling scream in the middle of Tate’s narration. It was a hell of a diversion. Unfortunately, everyone inside the building heard it too. I distinctly heard Jack swear. And neither one of us could ignore the sound of boots running in our direction.

“Okay. That’ll work,” Tay said prosaically. Keeping low, we both slipped out the door.

The moment we were out, Hannah saw us. A new urgency hit her when she realized that we needed to make it into the woods. I caught the ghost of a grin as she jumped to her feet and began high-stepping while flailing her arms like propellers. “Bees! Bees! Bees!” she cried, much to the jaw-dropping horror of everyone. “Oh God, the pain!” Bless her, it created quite the panic.

We ran, then, fast as our legs would carry us. No sooner had we landed in the shelter of the woods than the door we’d just exited flew back on its hinges.

“Stay down,” Tay hissed. “It’s Detective McSpeedy. He looks angry … yet remarkably fit. He’s not even breathing heavily. Impressive.”

I peered through the screen of dense foliage and saw Jack leap onto to the hay wagon with a heroic disregard for the imaginary bees. Everyone on board was freaking out. Tate was already there, trying to console Hannah. And then I noticed the one man sitting idly on his hay bale while the chaos swirled around him. It was Briz, and the full force of his magnetic gaze was on me. The moment he realized I was looking at him from my hiding place behind a screen of spring foliage, he smiled. He had a very charming smile.

∞

Our trek through the woods was swift, made even quicker by that lingering, unsettling feeling that something or someone was watching us. Our cherry orchard bordered a state forest. There was a good deal of dense, beautiful, state-protected woodland between our property and the next town over. And there was no telling what creatures were foraging in it. Bears were not uncommon, although I had never heard of anyone being attacked by one … yet.

When Tay and I reached the family quarters of the inn, we learned that the orchard tour had already unloaded. While Tay went to clean herself up, I stood in the shadow of the high hedgerow, looking to see if Grandma Jenn was somewhere under the tent. A crowd had gathered, Tate’s bright blond head sticking out like a beacon among them. Hannah was there as well, enjoying herself. Good for her, I thought, and smiled at the fact that no one seemed particularly concerned that she hadn’t been disfigured or seized with anaphylactic shock from the bee incident.

Lunch was about to be served, and for this reason my eyes were drawn to the group of cute high school waitresses milling by the bar. I supposed they were awaiting drink orders. And while they waited the busboys were there to keep them company. It made me smile, the innocent flirtation of the young people. It brought to mind my own high school days and the many years I’d worn the same apron. The Cherry Orchard Inn had always made it a priority to hire local kids for the dining room, where they worked under the more experienced managers. I realized it had been a long time since I’d paid attention to the wait staff. The faces were all unfamiliar, but it looked like they were a close-knit group of friends.

Then, however, like a herd of deer turning in unison toward an unsettling sound, all the young heads swiveled to a spot on the patio. I turned as well and saw another young man approaching, although he wasn’t as young. He was a bartender, near my own age and running a little late for his shift. And with that black hair, movie-star look, careless smile, and beautifully made body, they would forgive him a few minutes, I mused. Heck, they’d likely forgive him anything short of murder with that face. I had to commend head chef Bob Bonaire for hiring this man. When the tourists descended on the Cove, this bartender would have quite the following. I allowed myself one more look and then stepped back from the bushes. Grandma Jenn wasn’t under the tent. A short while later, I learned from Mom that she’d gone to her own house for lunch.

Before me was a very distasteful task, one that I needed to confront alone. Leaving Mom in the dark, and Tay beside her for moral support, I took my crime scene blender base and got in my car. It was time I paid my gran a long-overdue visit.