Pistols & Pies (Sweet Bites Book 2) (Sweet Bites Mysteries) (14 page)

The school Marty Grizzle’s construction company was building had progressed to the raising of the walls. It had been a few weeks since I last drove past the school, so I hadn’t known how far they’d progressed. It amazed me that the empty cement hole in the ground had become so much more, so fast.

I pulled into a lot that was marked for visitor parking and got out of my car. I knew I couldn’t go onto the site itself without a hard hat, and I didn’t know if Marty was here, but maybe I could wheedle some information from one of his crew.

“Hey there, cake lady, how are things going?”

I turned and found a squat man walking over to me, his ball cap pulled low over his dirty face, his clothes full of dirt and his boots looking like they had seen better days—at least two years previous. I recognized him. “Hey, Mr. Frosted Oatmeal Cookies. I didn’t realize you worked for Grizzle’s company.”

“I’m a subcontractor, not his employee,” the man clarified. “The name’s Jared Turner.”

“I’m Tess, but I’m good with cake lady.”  I paused to look around me. “So what do you do here as a subcontractor? It sure is going up fast.”

“I’m a framer. We’ve been putting up the walls.” He tugged at his ball cap. “Care to have a look?”

“Sure.” Who was I to argue if the man wanted to take me on a tour—which was what I was hoping for, anyway?

We walked around the outside of the building where I could see several groups of guys putting up sections of wall. One man cut two-by-fours while another used a nail gun to stick them in place. A third guy consulted a paper and shouted out dimensions.

“What is he doing?” I asked.

“We’re putting a window in that spot, so he’s telling them how big to cut the wood so the window will frame up right.” The man tipped his ball cap back further and spit some chewing tobacco juice on the ground.

I managed not to grimace. That habit was every bit as disgusting as smoking. “There’s a lot more to all of this than I thought,” I said, deciding to massage his ego. “I don’t know how you keep track of it all. How long have you all been working out here?”

“A few days. It don’t take long to get the job done. Not long enough, anyway. But I’ve got some other jobs lined up when this is finished. My crew’s in big demand.” His grin was full of self-satisfaction.

“Were you here the day of the fitness center opening? If you worked on that it must have been sad to miss it.” I tucked my fingers in my back pocket, wishing I’d brought a hat of my own. At least I wasn’t living in Phoenix, which was forecast to be ten degrees warmer than here. In comparison, Silver Springs was practically cool. Not that it was much of an improvement when we were hovering at triple digits.

“Wish I coulda gone, but I was here. That was our first day on the site. Way too many things went wrong.” He spit again. “Hate it when the crew before us screws things up and doesn’t leave it ready.”

“Oh, did you have to have Marty come back and take care of stuff? Does he supervise that closely?” I tried to act nonchalant, as if it barely even mattered to me and I was just trying to make small talk. “I bet there’s a lot of juggle in a job like this.”

“Yeah, he came back round about three, swore up a blue streak, nearly fired a couple of guys and then spent half an hour or so putting things back to rights before taking off again.” He shrugged. “Some guys are like that.  He’s does okay at keeping it all together, I guess. I’ve worked with better, nicer.”

“Ah, and how long have you worked in construction?” In my head I was thinking that if Marty was only here half an hour, he had time to return to the fitness center (maybe) and kill Eric. I’d have to clock the drive on my way back home.

“’Bout twenty years. I was still in high school.” He paused to yell at one of the guys, asking where the other bundle of two-by-fours went. He turned back to me as if there hadn’t been an interruption. “I worked alongside Marty for years. Can hardly stand the man, but he gives me regular work, and that’s nothing to sneeze at. I sure wish I could get outta this area, though. Try something new.”

I smiled. I wasn’t particularly impressed with him as a person, but he’d given me useful information. “Well, good luck with that. You going to be here much longer?”

“A while yet, lots more classrooms to put in the walls for. It’s a big job.” He started walking me around the site, pointing out the different parts of the school from the cafeteria. To the gym, classrooms, where the playground equipment was supposed to go, and the preschool which would be part of the school, though it had a separate entrance. We passed the single-wide trailer that was the construction office, and he mentioned Marty was usually there in the mornings. I made a mental note in case I needed to come back to talk to Marty later.

I thanked Jared when we got back to my car and waved as I drove off. There was so much to think about still. I checked my clock and drove back at the speed limit, taking the shortest possible route to the fitness center.

The timing might have worked, I realized when I reached the spot. Of course, if Marty was at the site longer than Jared thought, then I could be wrong. He still might not have made it. I wondered where else Marty might have gone after he left the site and wished the framer had told me where Marty said he was going, but when I asked he said he didn’t know. Or maybe he just wasn’t the type to gossip.

I turned my Outlander back to the shop, planning what I needed to do next. I still had to speak with Anise at Nova Cosmetics, but I wasn’t sure how to get my foot in the door. Maybe I should stop by Marge’s store to find out what was going on. She always had terrific advice.

The next day I sat at the computer and pulled up my email. I smiled when I saw a message indicating there was a new cake order, loving this new form Honey had set up for me. However, when I opened the email, my eyes bugged as the name at the top of the form read Eric Hogan.

Below it was his address—at least it
could
have been his address.  It looked like it went to the right part of town. I scrolled down and saw the request was for a double-tier cake all in black with red lettering. In the box where the client could request a specific message, I was struck by the lines, “Back off, or you’ll be next.”

My stomach dropped and rolled with nausea.

“What’s wrong?” Lenny asked. I looked up and saw him watching from the doorway to the next room, concern etched on his face. “You’re really pale.”

My breath came out in short gasps. The image was horrible, but it was the memory of my brush with death the previous spring that revved up my anxiety. I waved him over, unable to speak.

Lenny came around the corner, picking up a towel to dry his hands, since he had been dripping water from washing pans at the sink. He leaned over my shoulder to look at the screen and took a moment to read it. Making a worried hum, he reached for the phone. A moment later, he said something about needing Detective Tingey to call him right away, and that it was connected to the murder case.

Coldness seeped into my bones the longer I stared at the monitor, but I didn’t have the strength to stand and move away on my own. Thankfully Lenny helped me to the stool in the kitchen. “Come on, let’s get away from here.” His voice soothed as I followed his directions on trembling legs. “Calm down. I’m not going to let anything happen to you. One of the cops will be here soon and he’ll find out where this came from.”

“Remind me why I’m searching for another killer.” I sat at a bistro table on the other side of the counter. 

“Because you can’t keep your nose out of other people’s business.” When I glared at him, his lips curved a little. “No, it’s because you care about whether that kid goes to prison. It’s because you’re one of those good people who worry about others. Come on, have a drink.” He poured me a glass of water and put it in my hands. When I didn’t lift it to my mouth right away, he helped me and I drank automatically. Just having him near calmed me.

“Feeling better?” he asked when a few minutes had passed. He was looming over me, periodically pacing to the window, peering out, then returning. I wished he’d sit.

My lungs didn’t feel so tight anymore, making it easier to breathe and the blood was circulating again. “Yeah, thanks. I’m going to be okay, really. It just surprised me.” I thought I had dealt with the trauma of the previous spring, but apparently I had a way to go yet. I took a steadying breath and focused on the fact that I must be learning something important if I was making someone nervous. Unfortunately, I had no clue what that was.

The phone rang and Lenny picked it up and started talking. I assumed it was Detective Tingey. When he said to come right over, he must have gotten an affirmative response because he hung up.

“Okay, he’s coming.” Lenny finally sat across from me, covering my hand with his own on the table. “Settle down and take a few more deep breaths. Tell me about the online ordering system Honey set up. Maybe I can figure out where the email came from.”

I explained the nature of the website and about the form. He returned to the computer and started playing with it, pulling up information about the email and tracking it back to a certain IP address, verbalizing each step along the way. Oh yeah, he was a handy guy to have around—have I mentioned that before?

“Well, I found the IP address, which wasn’t easy since the info comes off one of your forms instead of from a normal email.” He clicked a few more buttons, looking smug. “And it’s coming from town. If they contact the internet provider, they can prove if it came from Eric’s house.”

Detective Tingey walked in and the bell chime made me jump; it seemed loud as a church bell. “What are you doing?”

“He tracked the IP address for an email we got,” I said.

 Tingey came around and stood over Lenny’s shoulder. I filled the detective in on what we’d been doing since the email came through. Tingey looked irritated that Lenny had been playing in the computer.

Tingey turned to me, glaring. “I told you to stay out of this.”

“I haven’t done anything overt,” I argued.  “Okay, so I went to the building site for the new school and talked with one of the guys there, but I kept my questions pretty generic, mostly about the building and a little about Marty Grizzle. It turns out that he may not have a legitimate alibi after all.” I felt a zing of triumph at having news to share.

“When did you learn this?” he asked, eyes narrowing.

I felt self-conscious. Things had been really crazy. “Well, I was going to call you soon. I went yesterday afternoon, but I’ve been busy getting things ready for a cake I have to deliver today.”

His lips pressed together in an angry line and his brow furrowed. “Yeah, yeah, save it for later. So tell me about this alibi.”

I told him what Marty had said about going to the building site, and he agreed he’d heard the same thing. I mentioned talking with Jared and how he said Marty had left early, probably after only half an hour or so, maybe even twenty minutes. “So the question is did he go to the fitness center, or somewhere else,” I said. “Because if he went back to the center, he might have had time to kill Eric. It’s a stretch, but not impossible.”

Tingey’s glare still hadn’t eased. “Okay, well, that’s interesting.  I’ll check into it. See where he went next.” He turned to go, but stopped before he reached the door. “By the way, we got ballistics back on that gun. It was the murder weapon. Unfortunately there were no prints on it, so we have no idea who used it.”

I frowned, suddenly very nervous. “You don’t think I planted it there?”

“No, but even with the information you sent me, I still can’t prove that you’re innocent. I also have no evidence one way or the other about Gary’s involvement, so don’t tick him off.”

“Thanks, Detective Tingey. I really appreciate you coming in to check on this,” Lenny said.

“No problem.” He turned to Lenny. “Did you forward that to me?”

“Done. And we’ll keep an eye out for any other ones that look bad. I don’t want anything to happen to her.” He shot me a glance like he thought I might object to staying safe. 

“That makes two of us,” Tingey said.