Berried Secrets (22 page)

Greg left soon afterward, and Monica cleaned up the dishes. The evening had taken a decided turn for the better in the end. Greg had raved about her cranberry cake and had had two pieces. She hoped he would remember that and not the overcooked steak.

Monica filled the sink with hot, soapy water and slipped in the dirty pots. Greg certainly didn't fit the role of murderer, she thought. On the other hand, if she were writing a mystery herself, she could imagine casting him in the part—the innocent-seeming, slightly bookish character who looked as if he wouldn't hurt a fly and whose guilt would take the reader by surprise.

But this was real life and not a book. Then again, there was that old saw about truth being stranger than fiction.

Monica overslept the next morning. It had been a night of wild dreams—bodies bobbing to the surface of the bog instead of cranberries, Jeff in handcuffs silently pleading for her to save him, Gina running around in circles pulling at her hair. She woke up more exhausted than when she'd gone to bed.

She had to hurry if she was going to get all the baked goods into the oven in time. Her jeans from the day before were tossed over the small chair beside her bed. That wasn't like her, but she'd been in a hurry to change before Greg arrived and then she'd fallen into bed afterward, barely having the energy to brush her teeth. She pulled the jeans on quickly and grabbed a sweatshirt from her drawer.

She was halfway down the stairs to the kitchen when she felt as if she was going to sneeze. She stuck her hand in her pocket, where she almost always had at least one crumpled
tissue—this time was no different. She pulled out the tissue and quickly pressed it to her nose. Just before she sneezed, she heard something hit the stair below her, bounce and roll down to the landing.

Monica stuffed the tissue back in her pocket and continued down the stairs. She paused on the landing and looked around. At first she didn't see anything, but she knew she'd heard the ping of something hitting the floor. Whatever it was had to be there somewhere.

She flicked on the overhead fixture, and the light glanced off something shiny in the corner by the baseboard. Monica picked it up. It was the ring she'd found on the ground yesterday—the one Darlene insisted belonged to Andrea Culbert. She had forgotten all about it.

Monica's first urge was to get rid of it—it didn't belong to her, and it looked valuable. What if someone thought she'd stolen it? She would call Detective Stevens right away and turn it over to her. If it was evidence of some sort, she would know what to do with it.

Monica mixed up the first batch of cranberry muffins and got them into the oven. By now, she could practically do it in her sleep. She was almost out of flour, and made a mental note to pick some up later that morning. As soon as that was done, she reached for her cell phone and dialed the number for the Cranberry Cove police station.

A rather tired-sounding voice on the other end assured her that her message would be given to Detective Stevens as soon as she got in.

Monica finished the batter for the day's coffee cake. The cranberries in it winked as red as the ruby ring she'd found, and Monica glanced over to the table where she'd put it for
safekeeping. She hoped Stevens would return her call soon. The sooner she got if off her hands, the better.

The cranberry cake that Monica had tried out on Greg the night before was almost finished when Monica's front doorbell rang.
Stevens?
She hoped so.

Stevens was standing on the doorstep when Monica opened the door. As usual, her trench coat was open, and her protruding belly looked even bigger than the last time Monica had seen her.

“T minus one and counting,” she said as she edged her way around Monica's open door. “I'd hoped to have this case wrapped up by now.” She rubbed the small of her back and winced. “At least I've got the crib put together, so I have a place to put the baby when it comes, even if the Winnie-the-Pooh border isn't up yet, and the changing table is still in pieces in the box it came in.” She sighed as she followed Monica out to the kitchen.

“Cup of tea?” Monica reached for the kettle.

“Decaf?”

“No problem.”

Stevens sat at the kitchen table, her feet propped on one of the chairs as Monica made them each a cup of tea.

“It smells heavenly in here. What are you baking?”

“I've made muffins and a coffee cake, and a cranberry cake is now in the oven,” Monica said as she put the kettle on the stove and turned on the gas.

“Everything cranberry, I gather?”

“Yes. Cranberries are our stock in trade.”

“Okay,” Stevens said, when Monica handed her a mug of tea. “What's all this about a ring?”

Monica reached across the table and handed Stevens the ruby ring.

Stevens held it up to the light and checked the inside of the band. “There's an inscription, but it's too faint to read. Maybe the guys in the lab will be able to make it out.” She turned the ring this way and that. “Looks expensive. I suppose that's a real ruby.” She took a sip of her tea. “How did you come to find this?”

Monica explained about spotting it on the ground on the path by the bog.

“So anyone could have dropped it. Although, unless it was extremely loose, I can't see it just falling off someone's finger.”

“Maybe they'd taken it off for some reason and had it in their pocket?”

“And the pocket had a hole?” Stevens smiled. “What bad luck.”

“But that's not all,” Monica said, moving over to the kitchen counter and leaning against it, her mug of tea cradled in her hands. “Darlene—she's the girl who works in our farm store,” she said when she saw Stevens raise her eyebrows. “Darlene claims it belongs to Andrea Culbert, Sam Culbert's wife.”

“I know who she is. I've already spoken to her a number of times. Seems she and Culbert weren't exactly a match made in heaven. But how would this Darlene know—”

“She cleans for the Culberts once a week and remembers seeing that ring on Andrea Culbert's dressing table.”

“And you found this near the bog? The one where the body was discovered?”

“Yes.”

“Odd.”

Monica gave Stevens a puzzled look, but Stevens didn't elaborate. Instead she heaved herself to her feet.

“Mind if I take this with me?” She held out the ring in the palm of her hand.

“Please, I don't want to have anything to do with it. Do you think you'll find out who owns it?”

“If we do, I'll let you know.”

•   •   •

The aroma of freshly baked goods wafted around Monica as she hurried to the farm store. She passed the bog where Culbert's body had been found and shivered. She didn't know if she would ever get over the shock of finding him floating amidst the cranberries. She averted her eyes but could still see, in her mind's eye, the scene as it had been that day—the yellow-and-black police tape flapping in the breeze, the officers clustered around the bog searching the ground for any clues, their patrol cars pulled up haphazardly on the grass.

Monica was relieved when the farm store came into view. She was surprised to find Lauren behind the counter instead of Darlene. She looked as if she, too, had had a restless night. Her usually shiny hair was dull, and her eyelids had the slightly swollen look of someone who hadn't slept well.

“Where's Darlene?” Monica asked as she hoisted her baskets onto the counter.

“She called to say she was sick. She asked me if I would mind taking her place today.” She smiled. “It's no problem.”

“I really appreciate it,” Monica said, and she meant it. Lauren was always willing to pitch in whenever and wherever necessary.

Monica arranged the cakes and muffins in the glass case and then began carrying the jars of salsa to the cooler. She realized she hadn't yet heard from Fresh Gourmet. She had her fingers crossed that the store would be willing to stock her product. The extra source of revenue would put Sassamanash Farm on considerably sturdier financial ground.

“Do you mind if I run into town?” Monica asked Lauren, who was straightening their stock of tea towels. “I need to pick up some more flour before I forget.”

“Sure. Weekdays are usually pretty slow. I can handle it.”

Monica grabbed her jacket and purse and headed toward the door. She turned around as she was leaving. “Thanks again, Lauren. I don't know what we'd do without you.”

Lauren's face lit up and she smiled. It gave Monica a good feeling as she walked to her car.

The day had started out overcast, but the clouds were moving swiftly and sunlight was breaking through. The leaves had nearly reached their peak of color and the trees were a vivid red and yellow. Monica took a deep breath. The air had that indefinable autumn smell to it, and there was a hint of wood smoke on the breeze that blew her hair across her face.

Monica beeped open the Focus and got behind the wheel. Traffic was scarce as she made her way into town, although almost all the parking places on Beach Hollow Road were taken when she got there. Monica finally found a spot two doors down from Gina's new shop. A van was pulled up in front of it, and Monica glanced at it curiously. It was white
with
Ralph's Plumbing
written on the side in red letters. The van Jeff claimed to have seen the night of Culbert's murder was white with red lettering—obviously Greg's wasn't the only one in town like it.

Monica turned into the doorway of Gina's shop. Carpenters were nailing wallboard to the studs, their electric nail guns nearly deafening in the small space. Gina was in the back of the shop talking to a man in denim overalls and a T-shirt with
Ralph's Plumbing
on the back. Obviously that was his van outside.

Gina waved her over, and Monica picked her way across a floor strewn with loose boards, various tools and abandoned fast-food containers.

“I want to hear all about your evening,” Gina said when Monica reached her. “Just let me finish up with Ralph, okay? It seems there's some sort of problem with the pipes, but Ralph is going to sort it all out for me. Right, Ralph?” Gina turned to him and graced him with her most flirtatious look.

Ralph nodded and smiled at Monica.

“I take it that's your truck outside?”
Talk about stating the obvious
.

“Yup. The one with
Ralph's Plumbing
on the side.”

“Have you heard about the murder out at Sassamanash Farm?” Monica asked casually.

“You bet.” Ralph stuck his thumbs through the straps of his overalls. “Probably ain't nobody in town who hasn't heard of it.”

“You didn't happen to be out that night, did you? In your van.” Monica waved toward the street. “My brother saw a white van on the road that night near the farm. It could be that the driver saw something and didn't realize it.”

Ralph puffed himself up. “Really? And, like, would they get to talk to the police and all?”

“I should imagine so.” Monica shot a warning look at Gina who had opened her mouth to say something. “They might even get their name in the paper.” She felt guilty leading on the obviously gullible Ralph.

“As a matter of fact, I was out in the van that night.” Ralph unhooked his thumbs from his overall straps and pointed them toward his chest. “A buddy of mine hosts a weekly poker game for us guys.” He patted his stomach. “His wife always puts out a nice spread for us. I took the van so I could leave the Taurus for the wife.”

“Do you remember if you drove past Sassamanash Farm?”

“That the place that Sam Culbert used to run?”

Monica nodded.

“I sure did. It's right on my way. Eric, that's my friend, lives over on Evergreen Road.” He pointed out the window of the shop.

“You didn't happen to see anything out of the ordinary, did you?”

Ralph stroked his chin. “I passed someone out walking. That what you mean? I I did think it was kind of odd given the hour. This was on my way back home, see.”

“Do you remember if it was a man or a woman?”

“Couldn't tell,” Ralph said succinctly. “Had on jeans and some kind of sweatshirt or jacket with a hood that was pulled up. Covered their face. Besides I wasn't really paying any attention.”

Monica nodded.

“Do you think I should go to the police?” Ralph's eyes shone.

“Yes. They might find it helpful.”

“But you're going to finish up here first, right?” Gina gave him a stern look.

“Sure, Ms. Albertson. Don't you worry.”

“I've got to get going,” Monica said quickly, touching Gina's arm. “Lauren is at the store all by herself. I'll tell you about my evening when you get back tonight.”

Gina looked disappointed, but Monica hastily said good-bye and left the shop before Gina could detain her further.

Monica caught a glimpse of the awning over Book 'Em as she headed toward her car and blanched at how close she had come to accusing Greg of murder. Hopefully he would never know.

She almost forgot she'd come into town for some flour and nearly walked back to the Focus empty-handed, but after her purchase was duly made, Monica headed to her car to go home to the farm.

She was pretty sure that Ralph would go running to the police with his information the minute he finished his work in Gina's shop. It might have been a coincidence that someone was out walking near the farm that night, but then again, maybe not. She would let Stevens deal with the information.

Monica was about to pull out of the parking space when her cell rang. She put the car in park and fished her phone from her purse.