Farmers Market Fatality Read online

  "Was that lit when you were up here?" Kat nodded.

  "Nothing's changed."

  Lydia crossed her arms in front of her chest. "I don't know what I'm looking for?" Kat shrugged. Lydia circled the perimeter of the room and disappeared into the adjacent bathroom. Her voice echoed, "It’s all too much. Too much at one time."

  Kat murmured without words. She counted on her fingers. "All to the same neighborhood, too."

  Lydia's eyebrow raised in debate. "What is it about this neighborhood? What makes it so special?"

  Kat meandered over to the smoldering candle. "Other than Cordelia lives here? Nothing that I can see. Unless someone has something against Miss Jacqui." Lydia allowed a sarcastic snicker to escape her lips. "Other than the normal, everyday Miss Jacqui complaints. Then there's Victor and his candles... but really..."

  "Victor!" Lydia smacked her hands against her jeans. "I completely forgot."

  "Forgot what, exactly?" Kat followed close behind Lydia as they rushed from the room and down the stairs. When Lydia swayed at the front door, Kat put a stabilizing hand on Lydia's shoulder. "You okay?"

  Nodding made Lydia all the dizzier. "I need to sit a minute." She scanned the room. Though it was clean, per Miss Jacqui's orders, Lydia couldn't force herself to sit on the living room couch. She leaned against the wall hoping it would support her spinning head. "Whoosh, I'm dizzy."

  Kat hooked elbows with her friend and led her out of the double crime scene house and into Miss Jacqui's kitchen. "I bet you haven't eaten all day."

  Lydia planted her grateful backside in a wooden chair and rested her head against her fingers. Her temples pounded. Kat set a glass of water before her and Miss Jacqui, ever the hostess, set to making Lydia a sandwich. Muffin trembled under the dining room table, still shaken from his ill-digested dinner of finger food.

  ✽✽✽

  Flora hitched up Enoch and secured the baby carrier against her chest. She triple tugged the straps tight and took an inhale of the evening air. The day was ending for the rest of the world. Flora didn't remember if she'd fed the children lunch. It was Ivy's problem, now. The distraught teen mother needed a mission, and if feeding five kids and an infant wasn't enough of a distraction, Flora didn't know what was.

  She entered the police station patting Enoch on the diaper in rhythm to the music playing from Parker's computer speakers. Rachel wasn't at her desk, but she was on her way.

  "Why that was speedy of you," Rachel said. She plopped her ample behind into her ergonomic swivel chair. "Ethan's in the back with Cordelia, right now. He shouldn't be too long."

  Flora was too tired to form small talk and too anxious to fill in the awkward silence. Rachel appeared to feel the same. She avoided eye contact and typed away at her keyboard.

  Ethan called Flora. Cordelia was beside herself and wasn't making sense. He asked Flora if she'd come and bring the baby. Babies calmed Cordelia and Flora was the closest thing to a true friend that Cordelia had left. Being questioned about the murder of her husband and the travels of his rogue finger would unhinge any woman. Cordelia was already knocking at crazy's door. She needed encouragement, and Ethan needed answers. Neither would appear without help. Thus, Flora was summoned.

  Enoch's sweet breast milk breath fluttered against Flora's shirt. His baby sweat and drool puddled under his cheek. Flora spotted Hobo Joe. He lounged on a bench next to the vending machines. "Has he been released?"

  "Who?" Rachel spun her chair around in a complete circle. Honey Pot rarely hosted more than one suspect at a time in their tiny jail. Rachel's love for the dramatic was flaring up again. "Oh, him... Nah... Ethan's in his office with Cordelia. Joe was giving them space."

  Flora ignored Joe's suspect status and went to him. He stretched and stood, always a gentleman, waiting for her to sit before retaking his seat. "You're not cuffed or anything?"

  Joe inspected his wrists. "Nope. No need. I'm not going anywhere. Wouldn't want anyone to get in trouble because of me." Flora smiled. "Besides, I think my troubles are almost over. At least, in this current season. Ethan was about to release me when this tidal wave hit."

  "Can you tell me anything more?" Joe frowned. "Is Cordelia okay? Has Dr. Lawrence been called?" Joe nodded.

  “He's in the middle of helping calm a few residents at the Senior Center. Then he'll be on his way."

  "A few?'

  Joe shrugged. "He said some of his favorite patients went loopy. That's all I know. He did mention he's been making daily stops there as of late."

  ✽✽✽

  Lydia wiped her face with a cloth napkin. "Thanks, Miss Jacqui." Kat watched Lydia circle crescents into her temples.

  "You still have your headache?"

  "Since I was here last. It comes and goes. Right now, it's a boombox between my ears." Kat fled the room. Muffin nipped at her flip flops. Lydia knew what was coming and welcomed it with dread.

  The forest green oil bottle rested on Kat's palm when she returned to the table. She fetched a clean cloth napkin and doused it with the contents. "Whoops! That came out faster than I thought it would."

  Miss Jacqui fanned the air in front of her face. Lydia's eyes teared. Kat sniffed back snot. "That's potent!" Miss Jacqui squealed and left the table.

  "Sorry," Kat shrugged. Muffin squealed and writhed on the kitchen rug. The small dog clawed and rubbed at his eyelids. "Sorry, Muffin."

  Lydia outstretched a hand towards Kat, palm up. "I'll put in my purse. I don't think I'll need to put it on my face this time. My headache is already the least of my worries."

  Kat tapped her foot as she surveyed Lydia’s face for signs of cynicism. “You’re not really going to use it are you?”

  “Of course I am.” Kat frowned. “Why don’t you give me the entire bottle? I’ll pay you for it later. You know this headache isn’t going away. I can’t keep bothering you.” Slowly, Kat’s face brightened as she began to believe her friend was an essential oil convert. She placed both the rag and the bottle in Lydia’s awaiting hand. Lydia searched around her chair. She sighed and tucked the napkin into her purse. "I've got to get going. I want to be off the road before dark."

  Kat hissed, "You’ve got a few more hours."

  "Fine, then, I want to go home." Lydia's chair creaked and skidded as she shoved it away from the table. "You have Muffin?"

  "Kat does." Miss Jacqui avoided the new responsibility from her living room couch. "That dog makes me nervous. I feel a nap coming on, and I haven't napped since my hysterectomy, thirty years ago. I'd hate to make it a habit, but I think I'm justified. At least for today," Kat patted the seamstress' arm.

  "We're going," Lydia called from the front door. Kat trudged behind, wooing the dog to follow. "I've got to stop off at Victor Cotton's. Where are you going?"

  Kat pulled the door closed and bent to scoop up the shaggy purse-sized dog. "I guess I'll take Muffin to his home. Make sure he's got food and water and lock him in a bathroom or something. At least until later tonight. I'll come back and check on him. I'm sure Flora needs a break from all the kids."

  The woman sauntered across the street. "Why don't you take him home with you?"

  Kat scoffed. "You're kidding. Lulu would eat him alive. You know she hates other dogs."

  "Yeah, I forgot she's as antisocial as her owner."

  Kat jabbed a playful finger at Lydia. "Uh, watch it." She joked and waved goodbye. One went up to the porch, and the other woman went down the driveway to her car.

  ✽✽✽

  "Do they really believe Cordelia killed Mario, froze him, and then crashed her truck into his iceberged body?" Flora nursed Enoch, from under a sizeable handmade nursing scarf. Mr. Joe locked eyes with her as he responded to her question.

  "Not any more than they think I killed that boy and beat the other one. But what other evidence do they have? They've got my crutch and Mario's finger. Mix that with our history of PTSD, and it makes the most sense."

  Flora rolled her shoulders, adjusting her cover. "Yes
, but Cordelia didn't suffer from Post-Traumatic Stress."

  The light from Hobo Joe's eyes sunk away behind his memories. "Maybe not diagnosed. However, I've seen it. A wife, a sister, a friend battling to help their loved one stay sane and safe. It's a fight without the assurance of reality and time. The past isn't what stalks them, as it does their family. Their trauma is ever-present and ever-volatile. It can't affect one and leave the other untouched."

  A wave of hormonal sadness meshed with Flora's deep empathy for her friends. The swirling nearly knocked her over. She couldn't stop tears from flooding her cheeks. Enoch whimpered next to her skin.

  With a tender and modest hand, the Hobo held Flora's security blanket in place while wrapping a fatherly arm around her shaking shoulders. "See? It's like that. Sneaky. It always finds people at their weakest point."

  Chapter 35

  Kat tucked the Muggs’ extra key in the pocket of her jeans. Muffin launched from her arms and skidded across the floor. He disappeared around a corner. Kat hummed to herself, trying to shake away the eerie emptiness. She followed the paw prints into the kitchen.

  “You hungry?” She babbled at the dog. Her voice bounced off the cold tile. The echo comforted her more than the silence. Muffin skittered around the ground. His long sharp nails clicked like raptor talons on the kitchen flooring. Kat continued her search for food for the dog. “I don’t think I’d be as anxious as you are to eat if I’d enjoyed the same meal you had last.”

  Muffin’s adventure into human cuisine didn't faze him. He sniffed and snorted on the hunt for crumbs and other forgotten delicacies. “You’re not going to start craving human flesh, now? Are you?” Kat’s joke left her with a sick shiver and an urge to flee.

  ✽✽✽

  Lydia knocked. No answer. She knocked again. Before she could decide if she needed to ring the bell, Victor came to the door. He looked aggravated but not angry.

  “Oh, Lydia, it’s you!” Victor leaned forward and craned his neck around to survey the lawn. “No, Miss Jacqui?”

  Lydia swallowed a snicker. Victor’s face flickered from frustration to relief when he noted Lydia was alone. “Nope, just me.”

  The tall man opened his door more widely and leaned against the jamb. He tossed his arms across his chest in a friendly, relaxed way. “Whew,” he joked. “What can I do for you?”

  “I’m making some late deliveries. Isaac from The General had some packages from you?”

  “From me?”

  “Yes. They’re Victor E Candle boxes. Some of them look a bit older than others. But they have no receiver listed. Only your address.”

  Victor stretched to his full height. “Really?” Again, he scanned the street. “Any of them damaged or opened?

  Lydia smiled. “Not that I noticed. They got mixed with a batch Braden was responsible for delivering. “

  “That’s interesting. How many boxes do you say you have?”

  “Quite a few. They’re in my car.”

  “Well, I’m not sure how Braden got a hold of them. I do know exactly who’s missing their orders. Can I get them from you? I’ll ship them off, myself.”

  “That would be wonderful.” Lydia pulled her keys from her back pocket and clicked the unlock button. Her car chirped in response.

  ✽✽✽

  Cordelia rested her head on her hands. Flora rubbed anxious circles on the distraught woman’s shoulders. Ethan left the ladies and attended to Hobo Joe’s release. He mumbled something about a confession and an eye witness as he exited his office. The closed-door muffled his voice too much to hear the entire sentence. Flora strained her ears but couldn’t make it out.

  “Mario, my Mario,” Cordelia’s voice held disbelief and confusion in each syllable. Her thoughts came out fuzzy as fog and just as disorienting. “How could they? Muffin. The finger. The stupid finger. I was so careful.”

  Shivers racked Flora’s spine. Her faith in her friend echoed her belief in Cordelia’s innocence. However, Cordelia’s own words rattled that faith and dangled doubt between Flora’s well-meaning thoughts. She didn’t know what to do.

  “I was so careful. Now, what will they think? I know the truth. I know the truth. Oh, poor Mario. Poor, poor Mario.” Cordelia snapped upright and stared directly into Flora’s startled eyes. “Why didn’t he reach out? I thought we were past all the pride and secrets. We fought it, together. I never expected, never dreamed...” Cordelia unlocked her gaze. Her eyes drifted toward the wall clock above the office door. She watched it tick without a word.

  Flora’s hand dropped to her lap. She could not fathom Cordelia killing Mario. However, the woman was almost confessing it. Flora prayed. There had to be evidence to clear the distraught widow. There had to be.

  ✽✽✽

  Kat paced the Muggs master bedroom. She bounced on tiptoes as she followed Muffin. Out the window, she caught a flicker of Lydia and Victor Cotton toting boxes to Victor’s front porch. “Hurry, Lydia.” Kat didn’t want to be alone in the spooky house, but she didn’t trust Muffin-not after the finger eating event.

  Though nervous, she stalked the pup. She didn’t know what exactly she was hoping for, but if Muffin found a finger, what else might he find? Kat wanted in on the discovery before the dog tried, once again, to eat it. So far Muffin led Kat up the stairs and into Cordelia’s room. He’d spent a moment in the master bathroom, sniffing the baseboards and then promptly burrowed under Cordelia’s decorative pillows.

  Kat sat at the vanity, facing Victor’s house. Seeing her friend nearby helped ease her tension. She drummed her fingers atop a jewelry box and blew out the candle. The smoke plumed with hints of metallic blue weaving with the gray-white cloud. Kat wrinkled her nose at the plastic odor. She waved the fumes away from her face and looked for something better to smell. Spotting a canister labeled Mario’s Nighttime Treat. Kat unscrewed the lid and allowed a whiff of Dutch cocoa to replace the candle’s horrid after scent.

  Muffin spiraled in his happy place. He mashed his pillowy haven to his liking and sprawled across it. Kat wondered if Muffin was allowed on the Muggs’ bed. She contemplated moving him back downstairs. When the dog started gagging, a replay of the garage debacle looped in Kat’s memory. Hastily, she snatched the dog and his lounging pillow. Muffin lunged at Kat. He snapped his teeth an inch from her nose before projecting himself to the floor. He grumbled at her and sauntered from the room.

  Kat pulled a hand to her face, double-checking for damage from Muffin’s strike. Unfortunately, she used the same hand holding the pillow. The corner smacked her in the forehead with a startling thwack. She stumbled backward and sat on the bed. The pillow thudded to the ground making the same assaulting sound. Kat rubbed her head. She dug inside the pillowcase and pulled out a cellphone nestled in a You Pick case.

  ✽✽✽

  Victor shut the front door with inviting warmth and sighed. “It looks like you could use a fresh cup of coffee. Come on in. I’ll get the water going.”

  Victor left Lydia without waiting for her response. Coffee always sounded good. Lydia chastened her nervous energy. Tingles of adrenaline spiked across the skin of her forearm. She would not give into her fear. She would stay in control. A warm slug of dark roast would wash away her momentary jitters. Lydia ignored the strange feelings swirling through her and decided to stay for one cup of coffee.

  “Sounds great,” She called out to Victor, hoping he didn’t translate her hesitance as rudeness. She also hoped he didn’t know about her jog over his fence the other day. Lydia slid her purse strap from her shoulder and dropped the bag near the front door. Kat’s essential oil bottle fell, and Lydia tucked it deep into her pocket.

  Victor’s voice trickled through the walls but did not land in discernable sentences on Lydia’s ears. Lydia stepped into the opulent living area. Leather couches and expensive electronics decorated the space. It was not at all the sort of living room Lydia expected. It held no small-town charm or Americana décor. Even stranger, not a single, Victor E.
Candle adorned the space.

  Lydia shrugged and met Victor in the kitchen. He smiled and greeted her with a fresh cup of coffee.

  “Cream?” Lydia declined his offer. “Me neither,” Victor returned a carton of half and half to the fridge. He gestured to a small canister near Lydia. “That’s what I prefer. A huge scoop of cocoa. Instant Café Mocha. Would you like some?”

  Lydia’s head throbbed, remembering her last experience with chocolate. “No, thank you. I’m beginning to think I’m allergic to chocolate.”

  “Is that so?”

  Victor listened as Lydia recounted the strange episode. His face puckered together when she detailed her reaction. “But please, don’t let that stop you,” she said.

  Victor frowned at the rejected chocolate. “I’d better not. I already had my daily dose.” He grinned and shoved the container away.

  Chapter 36

  Cordelia sobbed at the desk. Flora felt terrible about leaving her alone. Hobo Joe sat with Gus and Rachel. His conversation appeared too important to interrupt. Besides, Flora would be right back. She needed to use the restroom, specifically the diaper changing table. She decided to make it fast and hurry back to the bereft Cordelia.

  Flora hustled into the large one-room bathroom. It smelled faintly of bleach and strongly of synthetic plumeria. Flora plugged her nose. She hated having little Enoch suck in all the chemicals but didn’t want his bum to peel. She laid him softly on the old school changing table.

  The white stained table was donated by Lydia when Joan became fully potty trained and Ethan noticed the need. In a typical police station, Flora expected a changing table would stick out as a structural oddity. However, in Honey Pot, moms were often hauled in for fighting or causing public displays of lunacy. Frequently a talk and a time out healed the moment's drama. The occasional maternal jailhouse visits were rarely without young witnesses in tow. The diaper table kept moms from using Ethan’s desktop as poop central.