Your Goose Is Cooked (A LaTisha Barnhart Mystery) (15 page)

I told Chief all about William’s hiding place. He walked over to the Dumpster and stared inside, then back at me. “I’ll call the state and see if they can send someone out. You mind going over to the station and telling Mac to meet me out here?”

“What am I, your courier service?”

“No.” I saw the humor in his dark eyes. “You look like a fine, upstanding citizen who has a heart for seeing crooks get their due.”

“
Hardy been
giving you lessons in sweet talk?”

Chief headed back toward the opening of the alley, and though I couldn’t see his police car, I guessed that’s where he’d parked it. “Thanks,
LaTisha
.”

Here I get my bunions removed and lose twenty-five pounds and Chief’s acting like I’m in my thirties and can run here and yonder at his direction. That consultation fee he’s talking about paying better be enough to buy me a new pair of shoes. Good shoes. And I had expensive taste.

Chief’s voice pulled me back. He’d stopped and turned around. “Hey, I’ll be heading over to the Goose to ask William some questions. Do you think breakfast will be over in another hour?”

“Sure thing.
And if not, I’ll shoo them all out.” I slipped back into the restaurant and hustled as fast as I could to that front door, waving and hollering out
good
mornings as I moved, hoping no one would want to start up a conversation. Lester, seated at his favorite spot at the counter, made me stop cold.

He didn’t look happy.
“Got some news for you,
LaTisha
.
Real interesting stuff.”
Lester and I liked to spar, but when he gets serious, it’s usually an issue he’s going to chew on long and hard.

I detoured his way. “What you got?”

“Mary heard that Molly had been asked to vacate her spot as Eugene’s treasurer. She’s not too happy about it.”

“You hold me up for that?”

Lester wolfed down a bite of eggs. “There’s more. Seems those new guys in town are taking over his campaign.”

I didn’t say a word.
Didn’t have to.
Lester read my expression. It’s not that I have a problem with people moving to Maple Gap; I don’t. But
people
who move in, rarely interact with the citizens, then take on positions in a campaign that determines leadership, um-
hm
, that I have a problem with. One good thing would come of this shift: Eugene wouldn’t win any new votes when it got out that he had ousted Molly in favor of virtual strangers.

“You know what you need to be doing?”

Lester bobbed his head. “Sure. Taking advantage of the news, but how? It’s not like they’re taking jobs away from local citizens or anything.”

“No, but it stirs up confusion among the citizens. They’ll wonder why he’s using these people and not Molly. That’ll open their ears up to you if they have any loyalty to Maple Gap and decide an alternative to Eugene might not be a bad thing.” I shook my finger in his face. “
Which means you’d better stop shoveling food and get to reminding people you’ve got the interest of Maple Gap at heart.
”

His lip formed a pout. “I was planning on going home and taking a nap. I’ve been up since four this morning working over a mother giving birth.”

“Naptime can wait. Start your campaigning.” I waved my hand over the crowd. “You’ve got a captive audience.”

Lester shoved his plate back, his mouth set in a determined line. “You’re right. No use rolling over like a pig in mud.”

“Leave the rolling to Eugene.” I beat feet to the front door again and almost made it when Lester hollered out for everyone to quiet down. Turning, I raised my fist, said “Vote Riley!” and slipped outside into the weak sunshine once again. One glance at the rolling clouds let me know there was another storm brewing over Maple Gap.

Chapter Sixteen

I waved as I passed the window to Wig-Out. Regina clipped away at the head of Olivia
Blightman
, whose mother’s store was across the street from me. I did not want to be looking over that direction. You see, Sasha
Blightman
knows the bait to lure me in and she always sets it smack in the middle of her front window. And since she’d been dressing that mannequin yesterday, I knew fresh bait had been set. I’d promised myself to do a shopping spree when I hit the fifty-pound mark. Twenty-four more pounds to go. Maybe if I bought the outfit in a size smaller . . .

Bright Sky Grocery’s doors slipped open,
then
closed as I passed. The scent of overripe fruit wafted to me and I scratched a mental note to pick up those peaches after my hair appointment. But for now, the police station was my goal.

Maple Gap’s police station lacked cutting edge equipment and proper staffing, because only so much can be squeezed out of a small-town budget. The wide-planked wood floors, original to the building, rang hollow when someone walked across them, and if you dropped something, you could be sure never to see it again. The cracks between the planks might as well have been a piggy bank for loose coins. No doubt, tearing up that floor would reveal a treasure trove. I grinned. Maybe I’d suggest it to Chief.

I slowed and took the steps on quiet feet. Unless I missed my guess, Mac was napping in the chair on the other side of the door. With a quick shove, I smacked open the station door. Sure enough, Mac’s arms flailed, the force of the movement sending his chair rolling backwards. Off balance, the chair dipped backward, giving me an eyeful of feet, terror-filled eyes, and
windmilling
arms.
Then, finally, peace.

“Good morning, Mac.” My voice dripped corn syrup.

His hands pressed flat on his desk trying to settle his world. He glared. “You did that on purpose.”

“Sure did.” I let the sunshine fade and got down to business. “Note from the chief. Get down to the alley behind Regina’s real fast, but call in to the state police first.”

Mac stroked a hand through his hair and scowled at me. “You won’t tell Chief, will you?”

“Not if you pick up that phone and get to calling.”

He picked up the phone, hand hovering to dial, when he shot me a look. “Why didn’t he call to tell me that?”

“Because I just handed him a bit of news that might be crucial to the investigation.
He needs you to get over there and secure a possible secondary crime scene.”

His eyes went wide. “Someone else get killed?”

I jammed my hands on my hips. “Don’t be putting words in my mouth. Now make that call.”

He started to dial. “A man like me deserves a cherry pie putting up with townsfolk like you.”

“You just get on your knees and pray the new mayor won’t be Eugene
Taser
, or he’ll squeeze the budget so tight, you might be out a job.
There’s
not enough cherry pies in the world to soothe that pain.”

 
“Is this Mayor
Taser’s
campaign office?” His eyes glinted at me. “I have a message for him from
LaTisha
Barnhart.”

I turned my back, squawking out a good laugh at his antics, and rolled back down Gold Street. I decided to reward myself with a peek in Sasha’s window.
One peek.
I felt strong.
Real strong.
Like I could do anything.
Take on temptation and grind it under my heel. So when I got there, I took in Sasha’s front window head-on, and there, perched right on top of the mannequins head, was the cutest little hot pink fedora with a tangerine band. Um, and I had just the outfit to pull up everyone’s attention.
A tangerine dress with hot pink polka dots.
It was right there on that mannequin paired up with that cute little hat. Every ounce of strength squealed out of me like the sound of a squashed whoopee cushion.

Now a good detective doesn’t get sidetracked easily, but I had a real good excuse because Sasha
Blightman
, the phone tucked between her ear and shoulder, was motioning me inside. Judging by her expression, I don’t think it was a sale she was hoping to make.

From the side I heard of her phone conversation things weren’t all joy and light. I tuned out, distracted by Sasha’s outfit and the way it draped so nicely over her petite form. I got to say, something about stepping into the shop of a woman who is not only petite and slender, but has the style and class of Ralph Lauren, makes me want to don every girdle I own. Only the love of air, and inhaling it, kept me from following through.

“
LaTisha
.” She jabbed a button and slapped the cordless onto the counter. “I just got the most amazing phone call. You know that Aidan fellow they found dead? I agreed to consign earrings for him.” She sucked in a breath and closed her eyes tight. “Sorry, let me start over. I’m so disgusted right now.”

I waited for her to continue. I was patient. God was probably impressed.

Her eyes popped open and she took out the glass cleaner and started spraying and wiping the display case. Not that she needed to, but Sasha was a nervous doer, a person who moves around a lot when something’s on her mind. “I sold a bunch of Aidan’s earrings during my sidewalk sale. You
know,
the one I advertised heavily in that paper in Denver.” She wiped hard at the surface, tore off another paper towel and squirted more
cleaner
.

“I just had a call from a lady who took an earring to her jeweler when her husband stepped on the mate and it crumbled. A sapphire! They don’t crumble. The jeweler told her the reason it crumbled is because it was a fake.
A real bad fake.
What do I do?”

“Pay her back her money.”

Sasha waved a hand. “Of course I will, but now that Aidan’s dead I have no way of getting my money back from him.”

“Honey, if you don’t wind down
you’re
going to blow your engine and we’re going to have to take you to Lionel’s to get you fixed.”

She shuddered and crossed her arms as if warding off a chill. “His fingernails aren’t clean.”

“Not everyone has a job that’s clean. As long as a body makes money to provide for his family, that’s all that matters.”

“He isn’t married.”

“Nope, he’s not anymore, but I know for sure and certain that he’s been sweet on you for years now. You want me to set him up for a manicure with Regina?”

“He’s old!”

I snorted at that. “Honey, you looked at those crow’s feet lately?
Looking more and more like turkey tracks.”

She didn’t like that
none
. “Fifty-eight is not old.”