Pistols & Pies (Sweet Bites Book 2) (Sweet Bites Mysteries) (11 page)

“So it could have been there a long time,” Tingey said.

Gary shook his head. “Nope. Had my brother in town last weekend; took his whole family out for a ride. We used all the blankets and saddles. It wasn’t there then. They planted it.”

“We haven’t even touched it.” I stepped forward, hoping to get Tingey’s attention. “We found it and called you immediately.”

“So let me restate this and make sure I understand,” Tingey said to me. “Someone, we don’t know who, contacted you by email and told you the gun was in this room,” Tingey shifted his gaze to Gary. “The gun isn’t yours and hasn’t been here for more than a few days, but the person who sent the email knew it was here, and unless they’re just trying to make busy work for me, it’s the murder weapon.”

Put like that, it did sound kind of fishy. “You think it was planted?” I studied both of the men and looked back at the pistol. It was a legitimate explanation.

“Where did you go to school, girl? Of course, that’s what he’s saying.” Gary didn’t use the teenage slang ‘duh,’ but it was implied in every word. “And since you’re the one who put it there, you should understand that pretty clear.”

“I am going to take it,” Tingey said. “I’ll get an evidence bag. Don’t touch anything.” He turned and nearly ran into Sheralyn, who was wearing a pair of her tacky high heels, even at this time of night, and in the barn.

“What’s going on here?” she asked, staring at all of us.

Marty glared at Honey and me, “These two planted evidence in the barn and tried to pin the murder on me.”

Her jaw dropped and she looked at me. “I thought you were so nice.” She looked down at the gun lying on the floor then and cocked her head. “Didn’t we used to have a gun like that?” She grabbed her husband’s arm as if she felt faint and needed the support. Considering her spike heels, I wasn’t surprised she was having trouble with her balance.

“No,” he denied. “It was a Colt, this is a Kahr. It’s differ’nt.”

She patted his chest a little and glared at me. “I can’t believe you’d accuse my husband of killing someone. He would never do that.”

I wasn’t convinced and wondered if the informant saw Gary stash it. But why wouldn’t he have gotten rid of it instead? There had to be a hundred spots in the desert where you could bury a body and it would never be found again—a gun had to be much easier to conceal. My doubts about Mrs. Hogan’s accusations started to rise. Maybe she had been responsible. Maybe it was a cover up.

Tingey came back, took pictures of the scene and bagged the pistol. He turned to Gary. “You still want to press charges for trespassing?”

Gary looked at us for a long moment, until I thought maybe he was going to let us go. “They’re trespassers. I want them to see a judge,” he said instead, a tiny smile on his face.

I looked at Honey, and she met my gaze with equal dismay.

“I can’t believe you’re arresting us,” I told Tingey when he ushered us to his car.

“Not technically. I don’t want to bother the judge with a video phone call this time of time. I’m just going to see you to your vehicle, and make sure you go home. And you’re getting tickets to appear in court.”

Lucky for us. I don’t know if I could stand the shame of being cuffed. “You don’t really think we put the gun there, do you?” I didn’t need him looking over my shoulder again—that kind of stress was bad for my complexion.

“No, but you were trespassing. Gary has a right to press charges for that.” Tingey’s face was expressionless, so I couldn’t tell if he thought Gary was right or not. He put the car in gear and pulled onto the pavement.

He stopped at my Outlander, which still waited by the side of the road a block or so down the road. “Will the judge send us to jail?” I asked.

“Not likely since this is your first offense, but it depends on if she’s having a bad day or not.” When Honey gasped, he rolled his eyes. “You’ll probably pay a fine and maybe get community service. It’s not that big of a deal.” He shrugged. “But you’ll end up in the police beat in the newspaper anyway.”

“Terrific.” It would be all over town by morning, I knew it—even if the local paper wouldn’t be out for several more days. I might as well close my shop and move now. Honey should hate me. We climbed out of the back of his car—after he opened the doors for us.

“I can’t believe you two are getting involved in this again,” he said in full lecture mode. “What were you thinking? You should have contacted me and told me about the message.”

“Like it would have done any good.” I folded my arms over my chest. “When I
did
call you, you told me to get out and leave it alone. You weren’t taking it seriously when I found the gun.”

“He’s got livestock, is a former cop and hunts,” Tingey explained. “I’d be shocked if he didn’t have a few weapons. The barn is a bad place for them, but it’s not criminal to store it there. It’s not like he has small children.”

“It should be criminal,” Honey insisted.

“From now on, I want you to stay home and leave the investigating to me. This isn’t your job, or any of your business.” Tingey wasn’t going to give on this point.

That was okay, though, because I wouldn’t stop either. “Interesting, isn’t it, that we’re investigating this because Mrs. Hogan said you weren’t looking at Gary Roper as a serious suspect, and tonight you proved that she was right.”

He glared at me through the rearview mirror and his jaw muscle twitched. “The woman is grieving and upset. You can’t blame her for not wanting her son to go to jail, but that doesn’t mean we’re not looking at every angle. I’ve been a detective for more than a few years. I do know what I’m doing.”

I decided to keep my mouth shut after that as I could see I was getting on his last nerve and didn’t want to push my luck.

Detective Tingey followed us and I swung by Honey’s to drop her off. We were met by George at the curb. We waved the detective off before turning to explain and face George’s disapproval.

“I can’t believe you girls. What were you thinking?” George asked when we told him what had happened.

“That we needed to investigate,” Honey said. But there wasn’t much conviction in her tone. Apparently she was somewhat cowed by the whole experience.

I couldn’t blame her. I thought of my mom’s expression if she were alive to learn about this. I was almost glad she wasn’t around to see it. Oh, the disgrace. I thought of Jack and wondered what he would say when he heard—would he stop bringing his daughter by the shop, sure I would corrupt her? Would he forgo his favorite blueberry tarts and shun me? Oh man, would I have to slink away in shame?

 Some might say I was having hysterics, but I was not hysterical, just trying to be realistic. Worst-case scenarios are important preparation tools for a pastry chef. It’s important to prepare ahead to be able to fix a disaster if things happened to go down the drain. I’d dealt with many emergencies over the years and decided I could weather this storm too.

I know, I rebound fast. But now that I knew the worst-case scenario, I needed to figure out how to combat it. I needed to powwow with Lenny. The man knew what it’s like to be a convict, and could give me pointers to help me cope. Then again, pointers could turn into laughing at me, which wouldn’t be helpful at all.

After I said goodnight and reached home, I went upstairs to find Lenny sitting on the sofa, eating popcorn and watching late-night television. He looked at me when I walked in. “What’cha been up to?” he asked around a mouthful of kernels.

I gave him a long look, wondering where to start. He set down the popcorn, studied me and patted the sofa beside him. “Come tell Uncle Lenny everything. I know something is wrong.”

“Give me a break—we’re not related, and I’m six years older than you.” But I took the spot anyway. I even rested my head on his shoulder for a few seconds before having enough of that heart-warming scene. “I almost got arrested tonight. He ticketed us to appear in court instead.”

“What? Get out. No, you didn’t.” His expression was a mixture of laughter and disbelief. Apparently he decided that if it was true, it was funny.

I’d known he’d do that, so why had I decided to confide in him? Oh yeah, I thought he might be sympathetic. “Yes, I did. So did Honey. Oddly enough, she doesn’t appear to hate me.” I wasn’t sure if she
should
blame me that she would be getting a criminal record. She was pretty gung ho about the search for the gun, but I couldn’t keep from thinking I was responsible.

“What did you do?”

“We were trespassing.” I looked down, a little ashamed I’d been caught, not so much that I’d done it, or that it had led to Tingey taking in the gun for testing. If it was the murder weapon, tonight’s charges would be worth it.

Now Lenny really did laugh, slapping his thigh and yucking it up as if he’d never heard anything so funny.

I stood from the sofa and headed for the kitchen. I needed to cook something. “That’s it. You’re on leave of absence until you find somewhere else to live.” I turned on the oven.

Lenny followed me. “Oh, come on. Trespassing? That’s barely even serious enough to be charged with.  And you actually let this bother you? What were you doing anyway?”

“We got a tip about the murder weapon, so we followed through.” When he gave me a hard stare, I sighed and told him the whole story in plenty of Technicolor detail.

“And you’re worried about this because? I mean, the fine’s going to be obnoxious, but you can handle it and it’s not like you don’t do community service already—you make and donate cookie and cupcakes to charitable organizations all the time.” He boosted himself onto the ancient—and thankfully very sturdy—kitchen table.

“No, I bake for the business and donate the things when they get too old to sell. That’s not the same thing.” I opened cupboard doors and started pulling out ingredients.

“And,” he went on as if I hadn’t spoken, “You have a record that’s clean as a whistle. If that gun ends up being the murder weapon, the city will probably give you a commendation. You’ll be a hero. You might even get a key to the city.”

I huffed at his flippant attitude. “Okay, now you’re just making fun of me.”

He flashed a grin at me. “Well, yeah, maybe. Quit being such a drama queen, though. Life is for living, not for taking so seriously.”

“Mix that.” I handed him a large package of instant pudding and gave him a dirty look. “You wouldn’t be saying that if you were the one who was arrested.”

“That’s only because I have an actual rap sheet, and I know it would come out if I got into trouble again. I half expect the cops to come into the shop someday and give me the stink eye, like they looked me up and know who I am and are going to keep track of me.” He pulled out a bowl and dumped the package contents into it.

 “You never much cared what people thought about you before.” I grabbed the milk, cream and eggs from the fridge, glad to see there would be plenty.

He stuffed his hands in the pockets of his worn out jeans and shrugged. “It didn’t reflect on you before. I don’t want to hurt your business.”

That made me feel all warm and gooey inside, having him worry about me. “But you don’t think me getting arrested is a big deal?” I cracked an egg into the bowl on my KitchenAid.

“It’ll all be fine. Just don’t freak. You’ll see.”

“So as long as you’re feeling all warm and fuzzy about sharing, what happened between you and Kat?” I asked. I was past ready for him to fess up.

He turned away, but I grabbed the back of his shirt. “Oh, no you don’t. Get back here and tell big sis what it’s all about.”

He stopped for a long moment, then pivoted back. “She said she’d move here with me, but she wanted to get married if she made that kind of commitment. I told her I wasn’t ready to get married. She said
so long, sucker
.” He kept his face stoic, as if it didn’t matter to him, but the hurt radiated from his eyes.

I reached out to touch his shoulder, but he moved away.  “It’s just one of those things, you know? Sometimes people split up,” he said.

“Lenny. Do you really not love her, after all this time?” From what I understood, they’d been living together for three years, and dated for a long while before that.

“That’s not the point, is it?” He shrugged and changed the subject. “So, what are you making?”

I really wanted to push him, get more answers, but I could tell he’d just clam up tighter and I wanted him to feel like he could talk to me. Glad I’d finally pried something out of him, I decided to give it time and see what I could get from him in a few more days. “Crepes. Want to help? I’ll share my super-secret recipe with you.”

“Is it really super-secret?” he asked, reaching for my container of homemade cake mix. “It doesn’t look that hard.”

“It’s not. It’s super easy, but it’s some serious comfort food.” I figured we both needed some about now. He was really messed up about Kat. That situation needed fixing, and I wasn’t entirely above getting my hands dirty to see if their relationship could be salvaged.

Because I’m a good friend, and nosey like that.