Ellen McKenzie 03-And Murder for Desser (17 page)

Chapter Eighteen

The silence in the kitchen was deafening. Each of us stared at Jolene as if we had never seen her before.

It was Mark who recovered first.

“Carlton? Arrested? For stealing my wine? Are you sure?”

“Just positive,” purred Jolene. “I have it on the very best authority.”

“Oh no,” said Sabrina, shaking her head. “It couldn’t be.”

“Not that idiot who announced himself a partner at the dinner?” Frank had been pouring himself more wine but stopped in mid-pour.

“The very same,” Jolene told him cheerfully. “Poor little ol’ Carlton wasn’t any too smart a thief. Took them hardly any time at all to catch him.”

“I don’t understand,” I said. “When did all this happen, and how do you know about it?”

Every instinct that I owned screamed not to trust Jolene, but I didn’t see how, or why, she’d make up a story this wild.

Jolene rearranged herself so she could hold out her glass toward Frank’s wine bottle. He poured a little into it, put the cork back into the bottle, and placed it on the counter, ignoring his glass and everyone else’s.

“I just happened to drop by the police station,” Jolene said, after a healthy sip. “I thought Chief Daniel Dunham might need company for lunch. He told me.”

I could feel bile rise. How dare she. Standing there in her tight green jumpsuit, smiling that secret little smile with her carefully painted-on cinnamon-colored lips, color that hadn’t even had the courtesy to come off on her glass. And Dan. The nerve of him, telling Jolene and not the rest of us. Especially me. How could he! Easily, came the answer. Unconquered insecurity, fear, stubbornness, inability to trust my feelings or his, all had helped push Dan away. Damn!

“Jolene, exactly what did Dan say?” As usual, Aunt Mary got straight to the point.

“Only that they had arrested Carlton on suspicion of stealing Mark’s wine and he didn’t have time for lunch. I asked him if he wanted a rain check.” This last with a little sideways glance at me. The cat.

“Why would Dan offer that kind of information?” Aunt Mary persisted. She still held the salad bowl, forgotten, its cover about to slide to the floor. Her eyes bore down on Jolene.

“Well.” Jolene paused to take another sip. She avoided Aunt Mary by letting her own gaze flicker over Mark. “Carlton was supposed to take me to lunch. We were goin’ over the hill to that little place on the creek in San Luis Obispo. I hear they have a great wine list.” Here she gave a little sigh. Regret she was missing great wine? Or chagrin at being stood up? “Anyway, when he didn’t show, I thought about Dan. And there was Carlton, in the police station, in handcuffs! You can imagine how I felt, so I asked what was goin’ on. Dan, that sweet man, wasn’t goin’ to say, but Carlton started shoutin’ they thought he was responsible for stealing the wine, and, of course, he wasn’t. He kept askin’ me to go get him an attorney. Can you imagine that? Then they took ol’ Carlton in another room. It was downright interestin’.”

“Are you going to get him an attorney?” I was pretty sure I knew the answer. Poor Carlton.

“Why, honey, what ever for?” Jolene drawled, then took another long sip of her wine.

“I thought you and Carlton were—ah—friends,” Frank said, accusation and incredulity fighting each other. “You certainly gave every indication.”

“Why, Frank, darlin’, we had a couple of dates. That’s all. And you could hardly expect me to have any loyalty to a common thief, now could you?”

Aunt Mary, Frank, and Sabrina stared at Jolene as if she were some strange species that had suddenly appeared under their microscope. Mark had another agenda.

“Where is my wine?”

“What?” replied Jolene. She looked up from examining the empty bottom of her glass.

“My wine. If Carlton stole it, where is it?”

“How would I know?” Jolene told him, a little petulantly.

“Didn’t you ask Dan?” pressed Mark.

“Of course not. Now, why would I ask a thing like that?”

“Because…because it’s important. I need to find that wine.”

“Dan didn’t say anything about the wine?” Sabrina asked.

“I told you everything I know.” Jolene was getting a little huffy. Losing center stage to something as mundane as stolen wine must be tough.

“Ellen.” Mark turned to me, urgency making his voice hoarse. “Call Dan. Find out where my wine is.”

“No.”

“Why not?” said Sabrina. “We have to know.”

“I can’t. I’m sorry.”

“Dan and Ellen had a little tiff,” Jolene said, that nasty, playful little smile back. “Maybe she’s waiting for Dan to call her. Or to come over so they can kiss and make up.”

“Jolene,” I started, hoping threat rang in every tone.

“Jolene, stop it. Ellen, call Dan.” Aunt Mary’s tone left no argument. Jolene stopped talking, but she didn’t stop smiling. I called Dan.

He wasn’t in. Aunt Mary eyed me, but I could reply honestly.

“He really isn’t,” I said.

“God damn it!” Mark glared at me. “I need to find that wine!”

“It’s not my fault he’s not there. I tried.”

“Of course it’s not your fault,” Sabrina said, watching Mark, who had started to pace. “It’s just that if we can salvage that wine —losing it will be a big loss.”

“What can happen to it?” I asked. “It’s sitting in a nice stainless steel truck somewhere. All you have to do is get it and put it back in your own tank.”

“Not quite,” Frank explained. “Temperature is vital to fermentation. If the tanker is left where no one sees to the refrigeration and the wine gets too hot, it will be ruined.”

“It won’t even be fit for vinegar.” The expression on Mark’s face was as sour as his sentence.

Bang went the back door. No one moved. Bang bang. Mark kept pacing; everyone else watched him. No one even glanced at the door. There was a series of barks followed by more banging.

“I used to think it was cute when he did that,” Sabrina said with a sigh. She got up and opened the screen. Paris marched into the room, looked at each of us in turn, then walked over to me and sat.

“Oh, all right,” I said and fed him the remains of my sandwich.

Aunt Mary stared at the dog, but what she said was, “Carlton.”

Sabrina looked at her as if she had gone mad. “That’s Paris,” she said. Paris got up, moved over to her, and sat. Sabrina fed him some sandwich. Paris turned his attention to Jolene. She looked back at him and shuddered. The dog immediately plopped down in the middle of the floor and stretched out full length.

Aunt Mary watched it all, but she wasn’t seeing any of it. “I wonder.”

“What do you wonder?” I asked.

“Why Carlton needed to do something as stupid as stealing. I’ve never been impressed with him; he even cheated in my Sunday school class. I know he’s done some…well…dubious business deals, but I never thought he had the courage to do something like this.” She finally realized she had the salad bowl and set it down on the drain board. Paris lifted up his head hopefully. “Forget it,” she told him. He dropped his head back down.

“Courage?” I asked. “I think the word you’re looking for is ‘balls.’”

“That’s the word,” she replied with a little laugh. “Carlton’s a bit of a con man, but stealing, this kind of stealing. That’s different.”

She had everyone’s attention. Even Mark stopped pacing. The room got quiet while we digested this new thought.

“I don’t know him,” Frank said slowly, “but he seems the type to skim a little off the top of any deal he’s in. But Mary’s right. He risked a lot by stealing that wine.”

“Exactly,” said Aunt Mary. “And Carlton isn’t a risk taker.”

“Then why?” asked Sabrina. “He had enough money to buy into the partnership, why would he steal?”

“Carlton was dead broke.”

If Jolene had wanted center stage back, she couldn’t have come up with anything better.

“What are you talking about?” I asked.

“How do you know?” asked Sabrina.

“She’d know,” Frank said.

Jolene made a little face at him and held out her glass. It was obvious she wasn’t going on until he refilled it. Frank picked up the bottle, pulled out the cork, and poured it half full. He started to put the cork back in, looked thoughtfully at the bottle, and poured a little into his own glass.

“Well?” Mark demanded. “What do you mean?”

“Carlton had to pay cash for his partnership,” she said.

“We know that,” Aunt Mary told her. “But that shouldn’t have left him destitute.”

“It didn’t. But buying the lot did.”

Jolene kept staring at the dog as if he were going to explode any minute, jump up and attack her. Not much chance of that, but I might if Jolene didn’t quit playing obscure word games. On the other hand, the wine could be taking its toll. If she took smaller sips, maybe we could keep her on her feet long enough to find out something.

“Buying what lot?” Mark’s patience was beginning to fray, and from the look on Frank’s face, so was his.

“The lot next to the bed and breakfast. Where all the parking is going in.” Jolene stopped again. Mark was clenching and unclenching his hands, and I could see Frank grit his teeth.

“Parking lot. Carlton sold Otto the Adams place. And Carlton bought the lot? Are you telling us that Otto made him?” Frank asked.

“That’s what happened.” Jolene paused for another little sip. “That lot had to be bought for cash. Set ol’ Carlton back a bunch.”

“Will someone tell me what’s going on?” Sabrina asked.

“Sure,” I said. “Let’s see if I’ve got this right.” I smiled at Jolene. She didn’t smile back. “Carlton ‘forgot’ to mention how touchy the city is about parking when he sold Otto the house. Otto went for his restaurant and bed and breakfast permits, but he couldn’t get them without more parking.”

Jolene frowned, but nodded. Maybe she didn’t like sharing center stage.

“Our whole office wondered how Carlton got by the parking requirements,” I went on. “Only, he didn’t. So, the way I heard it was, Otto went back to Carlton and demanded he do something.”

“He told Carlton that if he didn’t buy the lot next door, pull down that old shack on it, and pay to have it paved, that he’d go after his real estate license, take ads out in the local paper saying he was a cheat and a fraud, in general ruin Carlton forever.” Jolene took over neatly, making sure all eyes were back on her.

“How do you know all this?” Mark demanded.

“Otto told me.” That demure little smile was back.

“Sounds exactly like something he’d do,” exclaimed Frank.

“Does, doesn’t it,” confirmed Jolene. “Actually, Otto told me about the lot, among other things. Carlton told me about being broke.”

“People certainly seem to confide in you,” Aunt Mary said. I loved her expression.

“That’s what makes me a good reporter,” Jolene told us all, holding up her empty glass. No one obliged.

“This changes things,” Aunt Mary went on. “Do you suppose—?”

“Do you suppose what?” I asked. “Are you thinking what I’m thinking?”

“She’s thinking that Carlton had the best motive of all of us to bang Otto over the head, and he had the same opportunity. He’s our murderer!” Sabrina’s tone was gleeful. “Isn’t that right?”

“That’s what I was thinking,” admitted Aunt Mary. “I wonder if Dan’s thinking that also.”

“It has occurred to him.”

None of us had heard Dan come in the front door.

“Place looks good, but you better do something about that doorbell,” he said. “Doesn’t work.”

“Dan.” Mark was the first to react. “Man, am I glad to see you.”

“Always nice to have someone welcome you.” He bent down and rubbed Paris behind the ears. The dog rolled over on his back and put all four feet in the air.

Was I supposed to respond to that comment, I wondered? Least said, soonest mended, especially as that sly smile was back on Jolene’s lips. Its effect on me almost guaranteed I’d say something that would need mending.

Aunt Mary pulled Dan away from the dog. “Dan. For heavens sake, tell us what’s going on.”

Sabrina was right behind her. “Did you really arrest Carlton? And you think he killed Otto?”

“Sit right down.” Jolene was not to be outdone. She waved him toward the one empty chair at the table, but she stayed posed against the cupboards, away from the dog and close to the wine bottle. “You poor man. You must have had just a terrible day.”

“Have you had lunch?” That, of course, came from Frank.

Dan looked at me as though expecting me to add something. I wasn’t sure what that was, so I kept quiet. He turned to look at Jolene, who made sure he got a good view of the jumpsuit, nodded once, and pulled out a chair. “No, I haven’t,” he answered Frank. “Or breakfast either. Um, that looks good.”

He accepted the full plate Frank handed him, shook his head at the wine, and popped open one of the waters.

Aunt Mary, usually the one providing the full plate, now had no patience with the needs of the inner man.