Apple Cider Slaying Page 3

  The sheriff’s frown deepened. “You’re free to go, but I’d consider getting a good lawyer.” He handed us each a business card with his contact information on it. “I’ll be in touch.”

  He tipped his hat and headed back to the crime scene.

  I would’ve kicked stones behind him, but my heels were buried three inches in the ground.

  CHAPTER THREE

  I hurried into the Sip N Sup diner for my shift at 7:00 p.m. sharp. Trucks were lined up in front of the long plate-glass windows and around both sides of the building on our main street through town. The after-dinner crowd had arrived, and I was about to catch hell from my boss, Mr. Kress, for showing up last minute. Mr. Kress thought we should be on the floor when our shifts started, not punching in.

  I tied my apron as I ran for the time clock behind the kitchen.

  “ ’Bout time,” Mr. Kress called from his office, feet up on his desk, door open so he could yell about something every few minutes and make sure no one enjoyed their job any more than absolutely necessary.

  “Sorry!” I yelled back, shoving my time card into the machine. I held my breath as the stamp of judgment thumped down, then peeked at it with one eye closed. “Seven!” I said, turning the card to face Mr. Kress’s open office door. I wasn’t early, but I wasn’t late. Thank goodness for the little victories.

  He frowned, then went back to scowling at the paperwork splayed across his desk.

  I headed for the dining area in my traditional baby blue waitress uniform, complete with A-line, knee-length skirt, structured top, and tennis shoes. Some of the other waitresses thought the uniforms were degrading or misogynistic, but I was just thankful I never had to think about what to wear. Though, I supposed, a uniform of jeans and logoed T-shirts would have been a lot better.

  The Sip N Sup was packed with patrons, happy voices, and the gentle clink of silverware on plates. It continuously smelled like mouthwatering joy because thirty years of grease, salt, and melted cheese had permeated the walls. We sold burgers, fries, and salads faster than the cooks could make them, and our fair share of coffee and pie as well. Occasionally someone would ask to see a menu, but that was almost always a tourist. The nearby national forest, New River, and endless West Virginia beauty brought birders, hikers, and outdoor enthusiasts to Blossom Valley in droves from May to November. Only the few who were brave enough to eat with the locals instead of at the chain establishments up the road, needed menus.

  “Order up!” the cook called as I passed.

  I grabbed the tray and the ticket, then delivered it to its final destination and went back for another.

  Reese McFee, the pretty blonde waitress sharing my shift, stood near the pickup window when I returned. Her jaw nearly unhinged at the sight of me. “Winnie! What on earth are you doing here? I thought for sure you’d call out tonight. What are you thinking? How’s your Granny doing?”

  I did my best to process the questions as quickly as she spouted them out, but Reese talked faster than most people could think, and at the moment, I was struggling. “Granny’s okay,” I said, deciding that was the only real question in the bunch. “I guess everyone’s heard about what happened?”

  Her wide-eyed expression said that was true. “It’s awful.”

  “Yeah,” I agreed.

  “So what are you doing here?” she asked. “Shouldn’t you be with your granny? Or maybe a therapist? I heard you were the one who found the body.” She whispered the last two words, an unwritten custom when it came to speaking of distasteful things.

  “Granny wanted to rest,” I said. “It was a long day, but I was too jittery to sit still, so I thought a busy night at work might help take my mind off things.”

  Her bottom lip jutted out and she pulled me in for a hug. “Bless your heart.”

  I forced a small smile and tried to swallow the guilt and shame creeping up my throat. I didn’t like to lie, and I really was jittery, but confessing the whole truth would’ve made me seem nosy, and no one liked a snoop.

  I had planned to call out. Then it occurred to me that I had the busy shift tonight, and I’d probably see a lot of folks who’d heard all kinds of stories about what had happened at the orchard today. One of those people might even know something I didn’t, having heard it from an actual witness, through the grapevine, or even from the murderer without realizing. That was when I’d pulled on my figurative big girl pants and donned my uniform. I’d hated the fear in Granny’s eyes when Sheriff Wise looked at her as if she could be a killer. So, I’d rushed right to work hoping to pick up and pass on some information that could help the sheriff get his handcuffs on the right person and his sights off my granny.

  I took the next order to its intended guest, then kept on moving. Before long I had a corner set of my own tables to care for and a smile on my face. There was something about the busyness of a full diner that made me feel like I was moving mountains instead of wading in quicksand, which was how I felt whenever I wasn’t in motion. I liked setting goals and reaching them. Every cleared table was another victory. Every newly seated guest was a fresh challenge. Classic country music on the jukebox was just a blessing.

  “Miss Montgomery,” a young girl called. She and her friends were working on their second shared basket of fries and individual Diet Cokes.

  I stopped at their table with a smile. “Refills?”

  She shook her head, then turned on the red vinyl seat to face me. “We were wondering if the rumors are true.”

  “Well, that depends on what you heard,” I hedged.

  The girl across from her leaned in on her elbows. Her long brown hair dusted the table. “We heard that Nadine Cooper was murdered at your granny’s orchard today.”

  “And you found her,” the third teen whispered from her place nearest the window. She shot her friend an ugly look, presumably for forgetting to whisper her blunt accusation.

  I nodded. “It’s true.” Flashes of poor Mrs. Cooper’s slack face burst through my vision, and I tried hard to erase them.

  “Who do you think did it?” the first girl asked, a bit more quietly this time.

  The friends scooted in my direction, matching looks of mischief in their wide eyes, and I realized they were testing me.

  “I don’t know,” I said. “I wish I did. Have you heard anything else?”

  “We heard your granny did it,” the first girl said, speaking for the group once more. “I heard my mama telling my daddy after she came home from getting her nails done.”

  I shook my head. “Your mama is wrong, and you shouldn’t be spreading rumors like that. It’s awful.”

  “I don’t spread rumors,” she snapped back, shoulders squared and chin high. “Mama heard it straight from her best friend who is the receptionist at the police station. The sheriff himself told someone to look into Granny Smythe. Why would he do that if she isn’t guilty?”

  I pursed my lips and gritted my teeth. “I’m sure I don’t know.”

  The long-haired girl gave a smug smile. “At least if she gets life in prison, the sentence won’t be that long,” she joked. “’Cause she’s old.”

  “Let me know if you need anything else,” I said, spinning away before I unleashed my tongue on the extremely rude group of teens.

  Had I been such a punk when I was that age? No. I’d been the one who toed the line. Worked hard. Kept her nose clean. And I’d never spoken to anyone over twenty without a yes ma’am. It was basic respect, wasn’t it?

  My head swam as I cleared tables and sat the next round of guests. Had the gossip girl’s mom or the loose-lipped police station receptionist told others the sheriff was looking into Granny?

  I slunk into a back booth at break time and tipped my head against the wall. Diners at nearby tables gave me sideways looks and lowered their voices. Maybe coming to work had been a bad idea after all.

  Freddie, the cook, slid onto the bench across from me with two Cokes. “I thought you could use this,” he said in his usual fatherly way.
Freddie was barely forty, but he had two girls at home, and he looked out for everyone as if it was his job.

  I poked a straw into the tall plastic cup and paddled the ice cubes before taking a long cold drink.

  “I heard what happened,” he said. His sweaty red hair clung to his forehead and temples. “I’m real sorry about what you’ve been through today.”

  “Thanks,” I said, unsure where to go from there. “I appreciate it.”

  “Be sure your granny knows my Margaret sends her love. She didn’t think you’d be at work tonight after she heard what happened. She was down at the bank and ran into some friends who passed the news along. It’s a shame. Hard to believe there was a murder in Blossom Valley.”

  I rolled my shoulders forward, leaning over the table between us. A lump rose in my throat, but I needed to say something out loud to try to process it. “The sheriff thinks Granny did it.” The knot in my throat moved to my chest. “She didn’t. She wouldn’t.”

  “We know,” he said. “Margaret and I know. Which means other folks know too. You’ve got to give them some time to work it out for themselves. Right now people are riding the excitement train, gobbling up the thrill and mystery.” He looked at his hands folded on the table, maybe considering his next words. “Some people have to make more out of everything than what it is. Like Margaret’s friend, Paula, at the bank. You know her?”

  “The teller?” I guessed. “Not really.” A groan rocked loose as I wondered how news had traveled all the way to the bank. Then, I remembered Mr. Sherman. He’d probably told everyone at the bank about how I’d invited him out to the farm to ask for money and wound up part of a murder investigation.

  “Paula’s a conspiracy theorist,” Freddie said. “Before the news about Mrs. Cooper hit, Paula was caught up on Farmer Bentley. Apparently, he’s been buying up farmland all over town for months now, but he’s not doing anything with it.”

  I waited, but that seemed to be the end of the story. “And?”

  He shrugged and smiled. “That’s it. So, Paula’s been obsessed, trying to figure out what it means and what he’s really up to.” He shook his head. “Some folks are just like that. Always looking for something to talk about. Hearing a beloved member of our community killed her arch nemesis in an apple press is some pretty juicy fodder.” He gave me a sad smile. “No pun intended.”

  I groaned.

  “Don’t worry though. This will pass. The novelty will wear off, and the same vipers who slander your granny today will be the first ones to organize the protest rallies if she’s arrested, and they’ll do both for the same reason.”

  “Excitement.” I flopped back and took my Coke with me. I didn’t want Granny to be arrested.

  Mr. Kress hollered from his office, and Freddie left.

  The card club was seated in my section when I returned from break. I tucked a fallen mass of hair behind my ear and improved my posture. “Evening, ladies,” I said. “What can I get you started with?”

  “Coffee,” several women answered in near unison.

  “And keep it coming,” Birdie Wilks added with a wink and a smile. “We’re playing poker all night, or at least until I’m broke.”

  I smiled back. “I can promise to keep the coffee coming until eleven.” I didn’t have any plans, but I sure wasn’t staying after closing time to watch them play cards.

  “Deal,” she said. “We want to get home in time for the news anyhow.” Her smile fell, and her eyes widened. “Oh, Winnie. I’m so sorry. I wasn’t thinking, sweetie.” She caught my hand in hers and gave it a quick squeeze before setting me free. “How are you doing?”

  “I’ll be okay,” I said.

  “And your granny?”

  “Sleeping. She barely made it to supper.”

  The ladies nodded.

  “A shock like that can knock a person off their feet,” Birdie said. “The good news is I heard all sorts of bragging about our new sheriff when he was elected last year, so let’s hope even half of it is true. If so, he ought to have this mess wrapped up in a jiff.”

  I felt the lump wedge back in my throat. “He thinks . . .” I started but couldn’t say it aloud again.

  “We know, sweetie,” she said. “but once he starts digging, he’ll see Nadine argued with more people than your granny. I imagine she probably had a few skeletons in her tight-fitting wardrobe as well.”

  “I wouldn’t mind the sheriff digging in my wardrobe a while,” one of the other ladies added. Several members of the card club joined her in a hearty round of giggles.

  Birdie shot them a reproving look.

  I stared openmouthed at both notions. For starters, the sheriff was borderline rude and one hundred percent presumptuous. No woman should want him anywhere near her wardrobe. For seconds, I hadn’t given Mrs. Cooper’s life outside of provoking Granny any thought at all. What did she do with her time when she wasn’t fussing over the tractor noise or the number of bees around our apple trees? I worked my mouth shut and cleared my throat. “Do you know if Nadine fought with someone else recently?”

  Birdie peered down the long table at her girls. “Anyone?”

  Mary Beth Hesson raised her hand and gave the group a sheepish look. “I heard she had a big fight with the trail master of her hiking club this week.”

  “Why?” I asked.

  Mary Beth shrugged. “Hard to tell.”

  A man seated at the counter spun his stool in our direction. “Are you talking about Nadine Cooper?”

  The card club answered in a jumble of nods and yeses.

  “Have you heard anything?” Birdie asked, batting long lashes his way.

  The man adjusted his trucker hat and stroked his beard. “I heard she was seeing a married man over in Winchester.”

  “Winchester, Virginia?” I asked. That was across the state line and about a forty-minute drive from Blossom Valley. Probably far enough to keep a relationship quiet, if that’s what Nadine had wanted, and I supposed most women dating married men weren’t shouting it from the rooftops.

  The ladies began to trade stories about other folks in town, so I skipped out before I could be accused of gossiping. I wasn’t sure what asking about Mrs. Cooper made me, but I had no intention of passing the stories along to anyone other than Sheriff Wise.

  By ten o’clock, the card club was going strong, but business had otherwise thinned to couples on dates who didn’t need much attention from me to satisfy them.

  I waited at the door when I saw my favorite white Jeep pull up out front.

  Dorothy Summers, aka, Dot, my very best friend since preschool, climbed down from the driver’s seat in full forest ranger uniform, looking like she could use some coffee, fast. Dot had been rescuing and protecting animals all her life, and after high school, she’d made a career of it. These days, she had a menagerie at her place to rival Old MacDonald.

  “Hey.” I wrapped her in a hug and fought back the tears that always came when I was hurt and she was there to fix things. “How was work?”

  “Please,” she said, shoving me toward the nearest empty booth. “I came right here as soon as my shift ended. Tell me everything, then tell me what I can do.”

  I did a quick scan of cups and plates to be sure no one would need me for a few minutes, then took a seat across from Dot. I unloaded the entire story from start to finish, leaving nothing out, including my selfish internal thoughts about selling our murder press to an unsuspecting shopper on eBay. “I would never,” I said, “but it crossed my mind. What is wrong with me?”

  “You were in shock. People get irrational in times of severe trauma. It’s only human.” Dot unfurled her tightly wound bun and pulled the elastic band from her hair, letting the thick auburn waves fall over her shoulders. She rubbed her scalp, and her heavy eyelids drooped. “Is there anything I can do?”

  “Not really,” I admitted. “I’m hoping to learn something that will put Sheriff Wise on a path that leads him away from Granny as a suspect, but other than that?
No.”

  “This is really awful timing, but I have something I need to tell you and it’s going to make your bad day worse.”

  I frowned. “Hit me.”

  “Hank’s sister is having a big birthday party out at the park pavilion this week,” she said.

  The sound of his name coiled my stomach. “I know,” I said. “Granny and I were invited, but we’re not going.” After five long years of dating, Hank Donovan had dumped me for an executive position at a big oil company last Christmas and moved to Ohio two weeks later. I’d been expecting a marriage proposal and had gotten a broken heart instead. That was a year ago, but I was still working on my residual anger. “If I never see that guy again, it will be too soon.”

  “Hank will be here for the party.”

  “What? How do you know?”

  “I ran into his mama at the gas station. She said he’s staying a week.” Dot’s sympathetic tone dulled the blow, but only slightly.

  Sweat prickled across my chest and forehead. “He can’t stay here a week!” I blurted. “Not now!” I had too many other awful things to deal with already.

  She nodded slowly. “I’m so sorry. I know you’re still getting past all that, and you’ve already had the worst day, but I had to make sure you weren’t blindsided by him.”

  I dropped my forehead onto the cool Formica tabletop with a thud. “Ow.”

  “I kind of figured this might be your reaction.” She rubbed my shoulder across the table. “You okay?”

  “No.” I dragged myself upright.

  Dot’s gaze lifted to my forehead where a large red spot had undoubtedly formed.

  It was probably impossible to avoid anyone for a week in Blossom Valley, but I was willing to try.

  “Now that I got the ugly news out of the way, guess what?” Dot asked, unzipping her jacket. “You’ll never believe what I found in the forest today.”

  “Gee.” I smiled. “Was it by any chance an injured or needy animal?”