Christie retrieved one of the pecan pies from the pie safe. The pecans glistened in their sea of syrup. She recalled how she’d found out that when the pie was first made, it had been called syrup pie. Then someone added pecans to it. She covered the pie with a beeswax wrap, and settling it into the seat, she drove over to the address in Boerne that Trish had provided her.
Hector’s house was in the older section of town where many homes bore yellowed limestone along the lower portion of the outside facades. She drove down Main Street, passing many familiar establishments and some new shops that caught her eye before turning on to Hector’s street. As Christie turned the corner, she spied Trish waving from her truck.
Christie pulled up at the curb behind Trish and got out. “You been waiting long?”
Trish bounced over. “Nope. Just got here, too. Need a hand?”
“No, thanks. Got it.” Christie opened the back door and retrieved the pie container. They walked past a stand of crepe myrtle on their approach to the front door and rang the doorbell. The door opened, and a young woman wearing a baggie t-shirt with the Texas star emblazoned on it and cut-off denim shorts answered the door. She wore her dirty blonde hair up in a high ponytail. Christie guessed the woman to be in her early twenties.
“Hey, Trish. Come on in.” The woman switched a washcloth to her other hand and opened the screen door.
“Thanks for letting us stop by, Shana May. This is my friend, Christie. She’s the one I told you about who makes this to-die-for pie.”
“Sounds yummy. I’m about to take a break anyway. Let’s go to the kitchen.” Christie and Trish followed the woman back to a small kitchen. The house wasn’t much bigger than her father’s place.
As Trish and Shana May conversed, Christie asked, “Is it okay if I use the bathroom?”
“Sure. Normally, I’d say I couldn’t since it’s not my house, but with Hector…it’s just so sad.” Shana May teared up and pointed to the right. She took a deep breath before replying, “It’s just past the living room.”
Christie entered a hallway that was only long enough to have three doors. She peeked into the front room and saw that it was being used as an office. Papers were piled in a wire tray, and a computer’s black screen revealed nothing. She’d love to look around in there but didn’t want Shana May to get suspicious. She turned to the door on the other end of the hallway.
The modest bedroom at the back of the house included a queen bed and two antique nightstands. The tiny room was clean, and Christie guessed Hector had a chest of drawers in the closet. But first, the nightstands. One side of the bed was clearly his side. A Yeti cup with a Whataburger logo sat next to the bed. Another wide-mouth bottle of indeterminate color made Christie gag. She never could understand snuff. A can of the chewing tobacco sat on top of the alarm clock radio. Other than that, the top of the bedside table was clear. She drew closer to his side and eased open the top drawer, in case it made any noise. She rifled through it, but nothing seemed out of the ordinary.
Christie listened for a moment and heard the women laughing. Trish was doing her job of keeping the woman interested in the discussion. She quickly went around to the other side. Hand lotion and some other woman’s things proved that a woman had slept here at some point. She couldn’t go through it now though. She wished she had time to check out the closet, but time was ticking away.
She peeked around the corner of the bedroom door, then scurried into the bathroom. Once in the room, she shut the door and opened the medicine cabinet. Inside were standard items, like ibuprofen tablets, shaving cream, toothpaste, and other toiletries. It didn’t look like Hector had been on any medication. Christie had seen nothing like that in the bedroom or the kitchen. Hector must not have been afflicted with any major disease or took any meds unless he kept them in the kitchen or with him. That meant that whatever had killed him had been given to him or he’d had heatstroke. But Christie knew that was a remote possibility. Hector had been driving in an air-conditioned truck. His shirt did not bear the signs of sweat under his arms or around his collar. That meant that something he ingested had caused the issue. Now if she could only figure out what that something had been.
Christie opened the door quietly, and when she heard the women still talking, she went over to the office. On the desk, a parcel map and other documents were stacked in a tray. Shana May’s voice called out. “You okay in there?”
Christie jumped.
Shoot. I’ve got to hurry.
She snuck back into the bathroom and flushed the toilet. As she went into the kitchen, she moaned and rubbed her stomach. “Sorry. I felt like I would be sick. But nothing. Must have been something I ate.”
“Oh, sorry to hear that.” Shana May took a bite of the pie. “This pie is delish.”
“Thanks. I like to serve with a scoop of Blue Bell homemade vanilla ice cream.”
“Yum. You don’t want any?”
Christie shook her head and rubbed her tummy. “Do you think Hector has any milk in the fridge? I hate to bother, but it might settle my stomach.” She didn’t acknowledge Trish rolling her eyes at her stunt.
Shana May hopped up. “Let me check.”
Christie rushed over to the fridge. “Oh, I can do it.”
Inside, she saw the expected contents of a bachelor’s refrigerator—a box from a local pizza shop, bottles of Shiner Bock, and a bunch of electrolyte drinks in various colors.
Shana May joined her at the fridge. “Here. You could have one of these.”
A thought popped into Christie’s mind. “No! Stop. Don’t touch it.”
The woman turned and looked at Christie. “Um, o—kay.”
“Sorry. I—” The young woman frowned and cocked her head, which instantly reminded Christie of a young friend she knew in Colorado.
“Listen, Shana May, I’m going to level with you.”
Shana May plopped into the spindle back chair and stared up at Christie.
Christie closed the fridge, and not seeing but two chairs, leaned against the tiled kitchen counter. “We think Hector’s death is suspicious.”
“Suspicious, like, how?” Shana May folded her arms and looked back and forth between the women.
“It just seems weird, that’s all,” Christie said. “Hector was young, and for him to die of no apparent cause, it just seems—”
“Oh, gotcha. Yeah, that is, like, weird.” Her mobile phone rang. She held up a finger. “Hello. Shana May here,” she chirped. She listened. Nodded. “Um, hum. Okay.” She ended the call.
“Hate to be a spoilsport, but I have to get back to work. That was Tyler Webster. They will be stopping by and wondered if I would be here.”
“Okay. Well, thanks for letting us visit.” Trish hugged Shana May.
Christie waved at her. “Nice meeting you.”
The young woman stood on her tiptoes and hugged Christie. “Thanks for the pie. That was, like, delicious.”
“You’re welcome.” She smiled at yet another reminder of her young friend’s habit of using like in her sentences.
They moved out to the street. Trish spoke first. “You little snoop. What did you find?”
“Stop. I already feel horrible sneaking around like that. But if they think I or my Pop had anything to do with Hector’s death, I feel like I need to get some answers.”
“Okay, you’re forgiven.” Trish crossed her arms. “So, spill.”
“Hector was definitely involved with a woman.”
“Noooo,” Trish whispered. “The gall of that man. A young bachelor, and he had a girlfriend!” She feigned shock and put her hand over her mouth. Then, she said, “Whatever is the world coming to?”
“Ha. Ha.” Christie pursed her lips. “But it’s the lotion. I think it’s like what Kimberly uses. I saw some like it in her basket at the grocery store the other day. There was also a bottle of essential oil in the bathroom.”
“Ah. Now we’re getting somewhere. She’s been trying to get me to buy that stuff forever.” Trish leaned against Christie’s Jeep. “But everyone uses oils nowadays. Again, not really any proof.”
“Okay, I also saw a parcel map on Hector’s desk. I didn’t have time to look at it.”
“What about drawers? Anything in the desk?”
Christie shook her head. “I didn’t have time.”
“Ohhhh.” Trish bent over. “Not feeling so good.”
“Are you okay?” Christie put an arm around her friend.
“I’m fine. I’m just putting on a show in case the neighbors are watching.”
Christie looked up as a curtain in a neighbor’s front window fell back in place. She gritted through her teeth. “Don’t do that. You scared me to death.”
“Why?” Trish rose but kept her hand on her stomach.
“I think I know how Hector was killed.”
Trish bolted upright. “Killed? For real?”
“Yes. For real. Killed.”
“How?”
“Antifreeze.”
Trish responded with a shocked expression. “Oh. My. Gravy. You’re really good. How did you figure that out?”
“The bottles of electrolyte drinks. Think about it. Hector was sick to his stomach. Then he acted drunk. I thought it might be low blood sugar or heatstroke, but that’s also a sign of Ethylene Glycol poisoning.”
“Huh?”
“Antifreeze.”
“Whoa. Shana May had said Hector had not been feeling well the last few days. He’d started drinking more of those drinks, but it hadn’t seemed to help.” Trish stopped. “Poor Hector. It shouldn’t have happened to him.”
“We’ve got to go to the police and let them know. But first, one of us will have to stay here and make sure Shana May doesn’t drink any of it.”
“Not to worry about that. She hates that stuff. She’s never understood how anyone drinks that chemical… well, I won’t say what else she calls it. She’s into natural things.”
“Okay, well, I’m going to the sheriff with my suspicions. What do you plan on doing?”
“I’m sick, too, remember? Must be some stomach bug going around. I will go use Hector’s bathroom and see what else I can find in the office.”
Christie sighed. “I felt so guilty and weird going through his stuff.”
Trish laughed. “You forget, I’m the mom of a teenage boy. I go through stuff all the time.”
“Isn’t that an invasion of privacy?”
“Yes. But I’d rather invade his privacy than to find out he’s involved in drugs or something else. If you were a mom, you’d understand.”
Was that an underhanded dig? No, I’m just on edge.
“I guess. Well, I better get going.” Christie slid into her car and turned the AC up to high. She waved and pulled away from the curb as Trish walked back up to the house. As she drove around the corner, a white pickup headed toward her.
Shoot. Must be Tyler Webster.
But as the truck pulled up alongside her, she saw that it was Cole. He slowed down his truck and waved at her to lower her window.
“Christie.”
“Cole.”
“What are you doing in this part of town?”
“Well, it’s not really any of your business, but I was visiting a friend.”
“Christie, what’s with you?”
“What do you mean?”
“You act like I’ve offended you, and I don’t know how. I thought, after all these years, we could be friends again.” He gripped his steering wheel.
Christie took a deep breath and let it out. “Sorry. I’ve just been on edge with my father’s injury, then Hector dying on our property—”
“No apology necessary. How’s your Pop doing?”
“Cantankerous as ever.” Christie grinned.
Cole retorted, “He’s always been nice to me. Listen, I really want to talk to you about the Webster proposal. I know your dad said no, but I’d at least like to give you the full story.”
“Oh, so that’s what you mean about being friends? You want to try to cozy up to me to get to my Pop.”
“No. I never said—”
“I have to get going.” She raised her window.
What was she thinking? Cole was only being friendly so he could work his old charms on her. And she’d almost fallen for it.
~~~
After talking with the sheriff’s deputy about her suspicions, she left dejected after he told her they couldn’t pursue her theory simply on a “hunch.” Even when she’d informed him of a similar instance where someone had given an elderly relative antifreeze in their drink, the deputy had insinuated that Christie knew an awful lot about how it could kill. She left more frustrated than ever. At least he said he would talk to the medical examiner. It was out of her hands.
Her phone chirped.
“Pop?” Is everything okay?” She heard Mutt and Jeffrey barking.
“Yep. Them dumb dogs don’t bark at anything else. But see a squirrel, and you’d a thought the squirrel was trying to burglarize the place. When are you coming to take me over to see Curtis?”
“I’m on my way now.”
“All right.”
The line went dead.
Once she arrived home, Pop agreed to letting her take the other pecan pie over to Curtis if she’d bake him another one. They needed to retrieve more hay for the mare and the foal, and Curtis still had some in a covered lean-to.
As they drove, Pop spoke, “Oh, I found your phone.”
“You did? Where?”
“It was on the ground outside. It must have fallen out there by the tree. I walked by it and saw it.”
“That’s weird. Why wouldn’t we have seen it earlier? And how could it have been missed?”
Christie slammed on the brakes causing Pop to grab for the dashboard.
“What the—”
“Pop! You didn’t pick it up with your hands?”
“Well, of course I did. Whatcha expect me to pick it up with? My toes?”
Christie slammed her hand against the steering wheel. Whoever had used her phone to text Hector had surely wiped the phone of prints, and now the only prints that would be on the phone would be Pop’s. That wouldn’t look good.
“Pop. I think that Hector was killed. Whoever texted him used my phone. They’re trying to make it look like I—or even you—had something to do with it. So at some point that same person brought the phone back to the property.”
“Well if that don’t beat all. Someone better not be messing with my girl. No siree.”