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“Where the hell did you hear that?” Zach demanded, his shoulders tensing.
Marla waved a hand in the air. “Your son Rory is friends with my pal, Arnie Hartman. Arnie mentioned to me that Rory seems concerned about the place.”
“Rory is a good kid but he’s a dreamer. He can get strange ideas in his head, like becoming an hotelier. Did Arnie mention their joint venture to you? My boy doesn’t have a mind for business. You should take anything he says with a grain of salt, because he can easily misinterpret things.”
Dalton leaned forward, his hands clasped. “Do you make all the decisions for the family?”
“I’ll get my brothers’ advice but they’re happy to let me take charge. We’re equal partners in terms of ownership.”
Marla glanced at Brianna, who was texting on her cell phone. No doubt the teen was avidly listening, though. Maybe she’d pick up some pointers for her school debate team.
“How many siblings do you have?” Marla asked Zach in a friendly tone.
Zach dashed a hand through his sandy hair. “Two brothers and a sister.”
Dalton took out his notebook and flipped through the pages. “Let’s see. Janet is married to Tony Winters, correct? And he’s vice president of Amalfi Consolidated that sponsored the bake-off. Janet organized the day’s events.”
Marla’s jaw dropped. She hadn’t realized their sponsor’s wife was related to the farm family.
Zach’s walnut eyes darkened. “We’re happy to have Tony’s support. Where are you going with this, Detective?”
Dalton pointed to the list he’d given Zach. “Does Tony have any interest in the farm besides selling his company’s products in your store?”
“Of course he’s interested. His sister has a stake in the farm’s ownership.”
Dalton shook his head. “I mean, does he have an actual financial interest in the place?”
“Oh, you mean like a loan? Certainly not. Our property is free and clear. We inherited it from our Pa.” His gaze flickered between Dalton and Marla as though he challenged them to refute his statement.
Was there an element of fear hidden there? Dalton could easily look up the farm’s title information. Had he already done so?
“How about the judges?” Dalton persisted. “Did any of them have a beef with Francine that you knew about?”
Zach’s mouth thinned. “I don’t know all these people personally, Detective. But let’s see. Carlton Paige is the food critic, yes? He writes his column for the newspaper, so I can’t see what problem he’d have with the lady’s magazine. She might have disagreed with his reviews but that wouldn’t be a motive to kill someone.”
“Tristan Marsh is pastry chef at The Royal Palate. Have you ever eaten there?”
“That place is too fancy for us. Right, Grace?” He grinned at his wife, who sat in a lone armchair and looked stiffly poised.
“Their menu choices are too eclectic for our choosing,” Grace replied in a smooth tone. “Janet knows the guy, though. They met at a menswear store when she was shopping for her husband. I gathered the pastry chef has expensive taste in clothes.”
“Was he ever featured in Francine’s magazine?” Marla queried. She couldn’t conceive of a connection between the two otherwise.
“I wouldn’t know, dear. I don’t read the publication. I like the TV show with Raquel Hayes. She’s very entertaining and I always learn something new.”
“I’ll have to watch it more often, although I don’t have much time for television. At the end of the day, I’m tired from work and there are chores to do at home.”
Dalton shifted restlessly in his chair, and she could tell he was ready to go. Since he didn’t seem to have any further questions, Marla continued to hold the conversational ball.
“One more thing, and then we’ll be on our way,” she said with an amiable smile. “I understand Francine had participated in the Find Franny game before, so she wasn’t a first-timer to the festival. Did you either of you speak to her before the scavenger hunt started?”
Zach rose and so did his wife. “I’m afraid not, Mrs. Vail. We were both too busy to greet everyone. The harvest festival is enormously popular, and we give press interviews as well as overseeing the staff and vendors. I’m sure you understand.”
Marla understood perfectly as he ushered them to the door. He was lying.
Teri the chocolate lady had identified the handsome man speaking to Francine. It was none other than Zach Kinsdale. This took place after the bake-off contest but before the Find Franny game. Had their encounter slipped Zach’s mind in the confusion, or had he fabricated his reply on purpose?
“He knows more than he’s letting on,” she said during the drive east. The car smelled like ripened strawberries. She couldn’t wait to get home and eat some of the fresh fruit.
Dalton focused on the road lined by shrubbery as they sped past an intersection. “I’ll check into their finances tomorrow to see if the man is telling the truth about not having any loans. What are you planning to do on your day off?”
“The dogs are due for their annual check-ups at the vet. After that, I thought I’d talk to Carlton Paige. Becky Forest indicated the food critic might be a useful source.”
“Hey, Dad, did you consider the wife’s role?” Brianna inquired from the back seat. “Maybe her husband was having an affair with Francine, and Grace bumped her off.”
“Brianna, you shouldn’t be thinking such things,” Dalton said with a glance at the rearview mirror.
Marla peered at him. “She has a good point. You should look into Grace’s movements the day of the festival. You’re the one who’s always told me to examine all the angles.”
****
The next morning, Marla examined the pet hairs on the linoleum floor at the veterinarian’s office. She held her dogs loosely by their leashes in the waiting room. Her golden retriever explored the perimeter while her poodle played a sniffing game with a smaller canine.
Marla and the owner—a young woman in athletic garb—exchanged understanding smiles. Pet owners shared commonalities that gave them a mutual interest. The room smelled of animal mixed with a cleaning solution scent.
Nearby, a bearded man sat with his cat in a portable cage. Marla suppressed an inner smile. She wouldn’t have taken him for a cat person.
Her turn came, and she leapt from her seat to follow the technician. Inside the cubicle assigned to her, she greeted the female doctor and gave a status report on her pets. Dr. Nelson, a pleasant woman with hair a shade darker than Marla’s chestnut brown, wore a white lab coat and a friendly smile. She performed the examinations with skilled efficiency. Marla cringed when her precious pets received their annual vaccinations. It hurt her more than it did them.
“Did you go to the harvest festival at Kinsdale Farms this year?” she asked the vet, knowing the woman liked to attend. “I entered the bake-off contest for the first time. A percentage of the proceeds went to the Safety First Alliance where I volunteer. We educate the public about the dangers of leaving children in hot cars, but we also include pets.”
“I’m aware of the group. It’s a worthy cause. We have their brochures in our front office. I didn’t make it to the festival this year, though. Would you believe one of our clients organized the whole thing? That would be an enormous undertaking for anyone, but Janet loves planning social events.”
“Do you mean Janet Winters? Her husband’s company sponsored our competition and provided the award.”
“It was generous of Tony to get his firm involved. I can’t imagine why Janet would be worried about him.”
“Worried? How so?”
Dr. Nelson bit her lip. “Sorry, I shouldn’t repeat things. Your pets look fine. If you’ll follow me to the front, we’ll renew their heartworm meds and Spooks’ eye drops.”
Marla wanted to pursue her remark about Janet but dutifully trailed the animal doctor toward the checkout counter. Her dogs, reattached to their leashes, bounded ahead toward freedom. As Dr. Nelson scribbled notes in their charts, Marla posed one more question.
“By any chance, do you know Carlton Paige, the food critic? He was one of our judges at the bake-off contest. The man struck me as a dog lover.” That’s because he looks like one, Marla thought but didn’t say aloud.
Dr. Nelson’s face split into a grin. “Sure enough. Carlton takes his pets to the dog park every day. You’ll never find a more dedicated owner.”
“Which park would that be? The one over by Fig Tree Lane?”
“No, it’s out west off of Nob Hill.”
“Maybe I’ll take these guys there. They could use a good run. Thanks for the info.”
When she’d called the newspaper where Carlton’s restaurant reviews appeared, the person there said he worked from home and emailed in his pieces. Dalton wouldn’t approve of her going alone to his residence, so this would give her the perfect opportunity to encounter him on a casual basis.
She released the dogs in the enclosure at the dog park, smiling at their high spirits as they charged around the grassy area. Unfortunately, Marla had no idea what time of day Carlton usually showed up. It was not quite ten, but he might have been there earlier.
She struck up a conversation with another dog owner while watching her pets cavort on the field. Spooks chased after another small animal while Lucky ran from one corner to the next. Once the woman left, Marla stayed on the bench. The tranquil park lulled her into shedding her concerns. A soft breeze rustled through the trees and caressed her skin. She inhaled the freshly-mown grass scent, and observed the fluffy clouds scudding overhead in a bright blue sky.
“Marla Vail? Fancy meeting you here,” said a familiar nasal voice.
Startled, she jerked upright. She’d become so mesmerized by the peacefulness of the place that she’d forgotten her purpose in coming. Carlton Paige stared at her from his rotund face, his complexion reddened. A black lab and a smaller dog with a pug face strained on their leashes held in his hand. He let them go into the fenced field and rolled up the restraints.
“Hello, Mr. Paige. Nice to see you again.”
“Likewise. Which dog is yours?”
They discussed canines for a bit, and then Marla steered the conversation to the harvest festival. “It’s a shame what happened there. We were having such a good time until Francine was found.”
“Weren’t you the person who discovered her body?”
“Yes, it was horrible. Would you like a seat on the bench? There’s plenty of room, and our dogs don’t want to leave anytime soon. Your lab is getting quite friendly with our golden retriever.”
“Thanks, and please call me Carlton.”
“Can you think of anyone who might have wanted to harm Francine?” she asked him, wishing she’d worn a hat. The scorching sun warmed her scalp.
“Beats me. Her magazine is popular. You’re married to that police detective, aren’t you? What does he say?”
Dalton is wondering if Francine was meant to be the target. She’d been wearing Alyce’s jacket and got hit from behind. Maybe the killer attacked the wrong person.
“He doesn’t share those details,” she replied. “I noticed how you were startled to see Alyce at the festival bandstand. Didn’t you expect her to be there when the winners were announced?”
Carlton’s face blanched. “I thought she would have left already.”
“Really? When the judge’s verdict had yet to be shared with the crowd?”
“I’d told my wife about her, you see. Sally was supposed to get her off my back.”
“What do you mean?”
His lips thinned. “Can I count on you to keep this confidential?”
“Aside from sharing it with my husband, yes.”
“Thanks to bloggers like Alyce Greene, my readership is eroding. Her online site is so popular that it’s stolen my audience. I’m aiming to become editor of the newspaper’s entertainment section. That won’t happen unless I can increase my followers.”
“So you begrudge Alyce her success?”
“She’s undermining my ratings. Now I know this doesn’t sound nice, but my wife figured out a way to discredit Alyce. She knew something about her. Francine and Sally are acquainted from the gym. I suggested that Sally put a bug in Francine’s ear about Alyce.”
“What did you hope to accomplish?”
He avoided eye contact, staring at the ground. “I thought when Alyce heard the rumor going around, she’d get upset and would leave the festival early.”
“What information does your wife have on Alyce?” Marla asked, appalled by his intent.
“She didn’t share it with me. You can talk to Sally if you want to learn more.”
“I will, thanks. Do you have any theories about who might have bashed Francine on the head?”
Her mild tone didn’t fool him, because he stiffened. “I hope you don’t think it was me. I’m not a violent person. My talent is using words, not implements, to get my points across.”
Implements? Did he know a shovel was used as the murder weapon? Or was it a guess, since the police had issued a public statement that a blunt instrument was involved?
Or perhaps his wife, fearful of him losing his job, took matters into her own hands. A visit to the woman rose to the top of her to-do list.
“What gym does Sally attend?” she asked.
Carlton stroked his double chin. “She goes to Perfect Fit Sports Club.”
Doesn’t everyone? Marla thought with a cynical twist to her mouth. She’d had dealings there before.
“Which days?”
Carlton rose to his feet and whistled for his dogs to return. “She’ll be at the club on Monday, Wednesday, and Friday. She likes to go from ten until noon, and then she’ll often head out to lunch with a friend.”
“I appreciate your honesty, Carlton. This has been helpful.” He wasn’t a nice person to urge his wife to start a malicious rumor about a rival, but would he resort to murder? Or was he not the violent type as he’d claimed?
She stood to allow a couple of newcomers to take their seats. “If you become editor of the entertainment page, does that mean you’ll give up your food critic column?” He must enjoy his job, judging from his pudgy figure. And even though his remarks might offend some people, he had his loyal fans.
“I’d assign it to someone else,” he replied with a frown. “In truth, I’m at the stage in life where I’d rather go out to eat and enjoy myself without analyzing every item on the menu. If a particular place strikes me, I can still write it up for the syndicates.”
“I hope you achieve your dream, Carlton.”
“Me, too, but I also want your husband to catch the bad guy so Francine can find peace.”
They parted ways, and Marla took her pets home. She did a quick check for voice mail and other messages, grabbed a snack, and then headed out again.
Her stomach clenched as she approached Perfect Fit Sports Club. Memories surged of unpleasant encounters from the past. Nonetheless, based on prior experience, she knew the staff.
It wasn’t long before she located Sally Paige at one of the machines. A hunky guy in a logo shirt and shorts appeared to be showing her how to operate the controls. He had a hand on her butt and his other one stroked her arm. Sally laughed and muttered something into his ear and then she flicked her tongue at his lobe.
They broke apart as Marla approached.
“Hi, I’m Marla Vail,” she said, introducing herself. “Your husband said I should talk to you about Francine Dodger. Francine and I were entrants in the farm festival bake-off contest.”
“Really? Oh, I’m sorry, this is Jorge, my personal trainer. We’ll just be a few minutes, dear,” she told him.
He gave Marla a nod and strode toward another lady wrestling with a torture device, as Marla perceived the machinery.
“I can’t believe Francine is gone. What a horrible tragedy.” Sally wiped her neck with a towel. She wore her acorn brown hair in a short bob as Marla had done before she’d grown her hair longer.
“Dying in an accident is a tragedy. This was murder,” she stated.
“What’s your interest in the case?” Sally asked in a curt tone.
“My husband is the lead investigator. I’m making inquiries on his behalf.”
“What is it you want to know?” Sally gestured for Marla to accompany her to a padded bench against the wall.
Marla waited until Sally took a seat and then followed suit. “Carlton mentioned you knew something about Alyce Greene that could discredit her, and you were going to give Francine this information.”
Sally shook her head. “I decided it wasn’t a good idea to speak to Francine at the fair. She knew things about me, too, you see. If I wanted to spread gossip, I’d have to be prepared for it to lash back in return.”
Marla’s glance flickered to the personal trainer who kept looking their way. I can see what it is you have to hide, pal. “What is it you know about Alyce? I’ll keep whatever you tell me in strict confidence except for my husband.”
“It’s not so much about Alyce as the woman’s brother.”
“What about him? Was he present at the festival?”
“We’ve never met, so I wouldn’t know.” Sally wrung her hands together. “Look, I love Carlton, but I don’t want to spread rumors that will cause trouble. I know he blames the food blogger for his falling ratings, but I’m not so sure that’s the root of his problem.”
“Do you think newspaper readership is down in general, and that’s the reason? More people are going online for news and entertainment these days.”
“That’s true, but Carlton’s posts are available on the newspaper’s website. He has his fans. Lately some of his reviews have been—how can I say this tactfully—not quite up to par.”
“Can you elaborate?” Marla gritted her teeth. Gaining information from Sally was like coaxing a stubborn curl into place.
Sally leaned forward. “At the last restaurant where we ate, I thought the food was mediocre. And yet Carlton gave it five stars.”
“So you’re saying his judgment is unreliable?” Or were his palms getting greased by restaurateurs who wanted better ratings?
“I’m saying readers might be looking elsewhere for an honest opinion.”
“And Alyce Greene fills that void?”
“She supports the farm-to-table movement that is wildly popular right now. Her posts mention sustainable farms and organic food sources, among other topics.”
“Does she do restaurant reviews?”
“Only on occasion, and her slant differs from what Carlton does. He used to be more discerning in his tastes. That’s what gave him his reputation.”
“Do you believe people like Alyce threaten the existence of food critics?”
“Not necessarily. People are more conscious of conservation efforts and green grocer practices. Organically grown and locally produced foods are popular and so are restaurants that use these resources. Maybe Carlton just needs to change his focus.”
While Marla paused to consider what to say next, sounds from their surroundings impinged on her awareness. Chatter from the mob of exercise enthusiasts mingled with clunks and clanks from the machinery.
“Francine was wearing Alyce’s jacket that day,” Marla ventured, watching Sally for a reaction. “Do you suppose her death could have been a case of mistaken identity?”
Sally’s brows arched. “How should I know? It could have been a piece Francine was working on for her magazine that riled someone. Or maybe a colleague at work had a grudge against her. What does Alyce say? Have you spoken to her?”
“Not since the festival. Would it have been within Francine’s range to challenge Carlton about his reviews? Were they on friendly enough terms to talk openly that way?”
“They met at industry functions as far I know. Their relationship didn’t go any further.” Sally’s mouth compressed. “I know someone else you should interview. At the festival, I overheard Zach and Francine talking near one of those tractor sheds. Francine said she’d learned something about the farm that could cause Zach to lose the property.”