Thyme for Love (Cooking Up Trouble Book 1) Page 16

  Chapter 29

  After a very silent ride back to Rescaté, and feeling like yesterday’s leftovers, I brewed a double-shot latte.

  My belief has always been that nothing happens that hasn’t been allowed by God, but at the moment, I was at a loss to know why my life had become a Tilt-a-Whirl ride gone amuck. I should have followed my first instincts the afternoon I first laid eyes on Marc here in this very kitchen, and bolted. I poured my latte and booted up the kitchen computer.

  I’d just linked to the Google search screen, when Kendall stepped into the room. He shut the door and settled on the other stool, resting his elbow on the counter. The pose said relaxed, but the popping vein in his neck said otherwise. I mentally added dealing with a cranky board president to my list of trials.

  I closed the laptop and forced a perky smile. “I just made a latte. Would you like one?”

  He held up a caffeine-free Diet Coke. “I’m good with this. I heard about the kitchen being ransacked last night. Why didn’t you tell me?”

  Why didn’t I tell him? When did I see him since last night, and since when was I the interim director? “Sorry. I thought Marc would tell you.”

  “He did. But he should have called me, not the police. Doesn’t matter now. Chief Bronson phoned a few minutes ago. He wants to discuss some questions people have raised about Ramón’s death and the break-in last night.”

  I felt the color drain from my face. What would he think if he knew Rescaté’s prize supporter, better known as Kitty McPiper, was the one who tipped off the chief to the rumor mill?

  The skin around his mouth stretched tight. “We don’t need bad publicity during this transition time.”

  I wanted to give him a good shake and ask what he was thinking. Bad publicity was never good, but since last night, my view on everything had changed. If the reason for taking those pills and birdnapping Pedro was to put fear in me, they’d succeeded. The police needed to be on the case. Amateur sleuths were good for novels and TV, but not real life.

  “With the chief on the case we’ll get some answers,” I said. “Chances are he’ll find out Ramón died of natural causes like Doc Fuller indicated, and the pill theft and birdnapping were only a couple practical jokes.”

  His eyes looked like they would pop out of his head. “Birdnapping?”

  “Someone took Pedro. I’m guessing the pill thief did.”

  He finished off his soda and crushed the can. “Good riddance to that bird. What an embarrassment he was at the service.”

  I bit my tongue as I looked longingly at the laptop and my interrupted research.

  After a minute’s lecture on why pets shouldn’t be allowed in the workplace, Kendall tossed his destroyed soft drink can in the trash and left. It looked like Rescatè wouldn’t be having a bring-your-dog-to-work day anytime soon. I moved the can from the paper trash to the blue bin, then opened the laptop.

  After I typed “Inmate Database California” into the search field, several hits popped up. I navigated through a couple more screens, then one asked me to agree to a long list of stipulations. Finally, I came to a search field, but it was for current inmates only. A phone number for further information was provided. Why couldn’t I do it anonymously by reading a database somewhere? There had to be a way.

  Further search for information on past inmates provided hits to several public record information sites for a cost. Did I really want to do this? Suddenly, the phone call seemed less invasive. I back-clicked to the screen and dialed the number.

  After traversing several layers of an automated answering system, a woman with a gravely voice answered

  I opened my mouth to speak, but the words log jammed.

  “Hello? Hello? May I help you?”

  “Yes. Sorry. I need information on a past inmate at the Santa Alicia Correctional Center.”

  “Name and date of birth?”

  I spelled out Marc’s name and gave his birth date.

  “Please hold.”

  Was it that easy? I watched the kitchen clock’s second hand go around once, twice, then three times while I sipped my latte. Halfway through the fourth cycle, the woman returned.

  “Did you say last name of Thorne with an e?”

  My palms grew moist. “Yes. With an e.”

  “I have a Mark, with a k, Thorn, last name has no e, served time for embezzlement but his date of birth is different. Are you sure about the spelling?”

  “Yes, absolutely.”

  “That’s the only Thorne I have.”

  I thanked her and hung up before I let out a whoop and a “Praise You, Lord.”

  You learned the truth, now don’t you think you owe Marc an apology?

  Wasn’t I the one who deserved the apology? If he’d been open from the start I wouldn’t have had to do an Internet search for his name. And, besides, I still didn’t know what happened over the past eight years. What I needed was another dose of caffeine. I stood from the stool, walked to the espresso maker, and stopped.

  Time to admit it, Love. What you need is a big helping of humility.

  Despite his hiding behind those walls of secrecy, I’d jumped to a conclusion about SACC standing for a prison. The dull ache returned to my chest. I picked up my cell and called Marc. It went straight to voice mail. I pressed the off button then made a beeline for his office.

  Taryn looked up from loading a cardboard box. “April. Hello.”

  I pointed toward Marc’s door. “He in there?”

  “I wish he were. He’s supposed to be packing for the move to the director’s suite. But he won’t be back until late afternoon. Do you want him to call you?”

  I pressed my hand on a corner of her desk to keep from toppling over, and glanced at the wall clock. Only three, but my day was done. “I’m not feeling well. I’ll call him later.”

  Chapter 30

  I headed back to the kitchen and gathered up my jacket, purse and lunch sack. At least asleep I wouldn’t waste time wondering if Ramón was murdered and if the killer had taken the pills and Pedro. And hopefully I’d shed the guilt pressing at my heart for all but accusing Marc of having done time. Outside, a gusty wind howled through the trees along with the familiar drone of a lawn mower.

  Mower? The landscapers cut the grass the other day. Why were they mowing again late on a Friday?

  The racket came closer, louder, faster.

  I spun around. Silhouetted against the sun, a figure stood at the mower’s controls. Was he aiming right for me? I shifted to the left. The mower adjusted direction too.

  My direction.

  The motor revved. I sprinted toward the lake. Like a bull charging its prey, the mower bore down on me. I had to move before he chewed my body to bits under those mega-sized blades. I took off for the trees, kicking off my clogs and tossing my lunch bag. Maybe a turkey on whole-wheat would tame the beast. I needed time. Precious time.

  The engine screamed. I’d probably lost a good pair of clogs, but what did it matter if I didn’t live to wear shoes again? I glanced over my shoulder. He was close enough to make out the man’s red and white ski mask. I zigged to the left then zagged to the right.

  Lord, please keep me from stumbling.

  The motor’s angry roar echoed in my ears. I gasped for breath and gulped in the stench of its acrid breath. Lungs stinging, I reached the tree line and dashed into the pines, their wide branches enfolding me like angel’s wings. Rocks and sticks cut through my socks, but I didn’t stop until I came to a large bough.

  I crawled underneath it and pressed my palm to my chest as if it would still my pounding heart. Over on the path the mower idled. Had he gotten off that monster and come looking for me? Nearby, dried pine needles rustled and I jumped. A squirrel scampered away. I forced myself to breathe slowly.

  The mower’s motor revved again. I held my breath until it faded off toward the mansion, then made a dash for Kitty’s. My lungs ached, my bladder was full, and I felt like I hadn’t slept in a week. But I wasn’t dead,
and no one was going to change that.

  Chapter 31

  “Get inside!” I shouted at Kitty as she was climbing out of her car, a withered Easter lily nestled in the crook of her arm.

  Her wide-eyed stare begged an explanation, but she banged the car door shut with her hip and scurried toward the back porch without a word.

  Inside, I double-locked the door and punched in the alarm code before stepping into the kitchen. “Someone tried to kill me.”

  Her face as white as the bedraggled flower she carried, she slammed the plant on the table, scattering clumps of dirt across the oak surface. “Who?”

  “I couldn’t see because of a ski mask. The creep was on one of those big lawn mowers and chased me across the lawn.”

  Kitty pulled me toward her and wrapped me in her arms. “You’re shaking all over.” She guided me to a chair at the table and eased me down.

  I looked up at her still-pale face. “Thank the Lord for those pines. If they weren’t there, I’d be hamburger meat by now.” I replayed the horror in my mind. Tears puddled in my eyes, and I didn’t fight them. The hot moisture trailing down my cheeks assured I was alive.

  Kitty took my hands in hers and prayed against “the evil that has pervaded this once peaceful place.” I let her plea for my protection buoy me and echoed her “Amen” as she concluded.

  Exhaustion washed over me, but first things first. “I need to call the police. In fact, I’m going to call the chief directly. He needs to hear it straight.”

  “Why Howard?”

  “Who?”

  “The chief.”

  “Oh. I found out he’s taking Marc’s and my report about the kitchen break-in more seriously than the officer who answered the phone last night. He called Kendall in for an interview of some sort this morning.”

  “It’s odd he didn’t ask to speak to you or Marc, since you two are the ones who discovered the pill theft.”

  I shrugged. “I was too focused on Kendall’s being upset with me because the police were investigating.”

  “Why would he be upset?”

  “He’s afraid of Rescaté’s reputation being tarnished, only to find out later it’s nothing but rumors and pranks. Some people won’t hear that and the kids will suffer. He’s probably right. Without the pills, I have nothing concrete. Same as with that guy attacking me with the mower.”

  “You’re certain it was a man?”

  I pulled up a vision of the masked figure silhouetted against the sun. “I guess it could’ve been a woman.”

  “Think, April. What about the build?”

  “The shoulders weren’t very broad, but some men have slighter forms.”

  Kitty grabbed the landline phone from the wall base and handed it to me.

  After I punched in the number, a woman answered. “This is April Love, the Rescaté chef. Is Chief Bronson there? I need to report an attack.”

  “The chief isn’t available. What kind of attack?”

  “Someone tried to run me down with a riding lawn mower.”

  “A what?”

  “One of those big jobs. The kind you stand on.”

  “And the operator attempted to run you over?” Skepticism replaced surprise in her voice.

  “I was heading across Rescaté de Niño’s lawn when the huge mower came around the mansion and aimed for me.”

  “But you got away.”

  “Only because I ran into some pines. Trust me, the attack was real.”

  “Can you describe the attacker?”

  “No. He wore a ski mask. It could have been a she.”

  “Where’s the mower now?”

  “The guy headed toward the mansion. I wasn’t about to follow.” The woman’s condescending tone lit a fuse in my gut. I raised my voice. “Can you interrupt the chief? He’s already familiar with the situation here.”

  “He’s in a meeting and can’t be disturbed. I’ll notify patrol. What’s your number?”

  I let out a sigh. So what else was new? I gave her my cell number and hung up. “Who answers the phone there during business hours? She’s not an officer is she?”

  “Cindy Bronson, the chief’s daughter.”

  “She said the chief is in a meeting. I don’t buy it. Kendall couldn’t still be there. That was over an hour ago.”

  “You were almost killed.” Kitty grabbed the phone out of my hand and punched in a number. “Cindy, this is Kitty McPiper. A minute ago my niece reported an attack on her life to you. If your father can’t come to the phone, I demand you send the squad over here immediately.” As she listened to Cindy’s response, creases formed between her eyes. “I don’t care what he’s investigating. Does she need to be killed before you do something?” She listened again, her fingers white in a tight grip on the phone. “Whatever.”

  She hit the off button and replaced the receiver in its base. “I don’t want you going to Rescaté anymore, April. It’s not safe.”

  I wanted more than ever to put the place on my personal list of destinations not to visit before I died, but how could I? “Sorry. No can do. If I cave in now, he wins. I’ll be careful.”

  “Your life is more important than any of this.” Her gaze blazed a trail over my face. “You’re my only niece.” She pulled a tissue from her jeans pocket and wiped her nose. “You’re like a daughter to me, my best friend.”

  I pinned my arms against my roiling stomach. Maybe I should quit the job and leave town. But I couldn’t leave with my aunt next door and nothing resolved. I gathered her into my arms. “I’ll be okay. Marc already said he doesn’t want me alone in the building. When he hears what happened, he’ll probably arrange for someone to be my bodyguard.” At least he would have yesterday. Today? I wasn’t too sure.

  “I guess it’ll be okay if you have an escort.” She angled her head back to look me in the eye. “This seems almost insignificant, but were you able to clear up the question about Marc?”

  “Yes, but not without causing him to blow a gasket. I can hardly blame him since I accused him of being an ex-con. I found out later I could call the California Department of Corrections and get information on past inmates. He was never in prison.” I blinked at my tears. “I feel like a louse. By the time I knew the truth and went to apologize, he wasn’t in the office. I left a voice mail but he hasn’t called.”

  “I had no idea you could search for past inmates like that. Back when Daniel was incarcerated we had no Internet and that kind of information wasn’t easily available. What exactly did you say to Marc?”

  I recounted our conversation as best I could through the sobs.

  “Sweetie, I didn’t hear an accusation in there. You asked a question.”

  I stared at her.

  “He may have heard the question as an accusation, but you didn’t accuse.”

  I mentally rehashed the conversation as I remembered it. She was right. The way he reacted had caused me to see my words as an accusation. Maybe I could have softened the question more, but I didn’t accuse. Still, humility is always better than pride. I pulled my cell phone from my pocket and hit the speed dial for Marc.

  After four rings the call went to voicemail. I visualized him glancing at the caller ID screen and thinking, her again. As soon as his recorded greeting ended, I blurted out, “Marc, this is an emergency. Call me ASAP.” I disconnected. “That should get his attention. Now I’m taking a shower. On second thought, mind if I use the spa tub?”

  Forty-five minutes later, wrinkled as elephant hide and wrapped in a terry robe, I stepped into my bedroom. Kitty sat on the bed.

  I stopped towel drying my hair. “Don’t tell me the police are here.”

  She offered a wry smile. “Only in a perfect world. With everything else, I forgot to mention that I had lunch at Dina’s Diner.”

  I draped the towel around my neck and sat next to her. “So?”

  “LuAnn Dodge was our waitress.”

  I smiled for the first time that day. “My childhood spying partner in crime?�
��

  Kitty nodded. “I never realized what a beautiful girl she is. She’s styled her hair now and wears makeup. I teased that she must be in love. When a girl blushes like—”

  “Did you mention I was in town?”

  “Yes. I told her you were staying with me.”

  “Did she say anything about us getting together?”

  “Before she could, we got to talking about Ramón’s passing. She said quite a few Rescaté people come in there. Then I realized that maybe someone had been there that morning wearing the same jogging outfit as the person who bumped into you wore.” She quirked her head. “Wild idea, but it didn’t hurt to find out. I asked if any Rescaté employees had been in there the morning of the death.”

  “What’d she say?”

  “A huge family sat at one of her stations. Well, her station and Dorry’s. The other waitress. They had to put three tables together. I never got another chance to talk to her.” She worked her lower lip. “I’m sorry.”

  I ran my fingers through my damp curls and fluffed them. “You tried. At this point it wouldn’t hurt to pursue that idea. Maybe I’ll stop by the diner myself. It’ll be fun to see her again.” Sheesh. There I was trying to act like Nancy Drew or something. But if we didn’t turn over every rock to be sure . . .

  “I’m glad you’re not upset. You’ve had enough with that terrible scare.”

  A vision of the monster mower flashed into my head. Coming closer, angry, belching fumes. Then my futile attempt at stalling him by kicking off my clogs. He ate them like a hungry dog going after a bone.

  “That’s it.” I bolted across the room to my dresser.

  Kitty was beside me in two seconds. “What are you doing?”

  I pulled out my jeans. “If my shoes are still there and torn to shreds, I have proof of the lawnmower attack.”

  “It’s dark now and you’re exhausted. You’re going nowhere but to bed.” She tugged at my jeans, but I was stronger.

  I stepped into the pants and fastened them under my nightshirt. “I won’t be able to sleep until I’ve done this.”