One Bad Egg (A Rainy Day Mystery Book 5) Read online

  “What are you talking about?”

  She gave me a look. “There is a murderer on the loose, Mother.”

  I hated when she called me Mother. “Ah, yes. How could I forget when you keep mentioning it?”

  “A murderer who you might know,” she continued. “And we’re here, prepping for Thanksgiving as if nothing is wrong and our lives aren’t in danger.”

  There were several things wrong with her statement. First, we had no idea who, if anyone, was responsible for Owen’s death. Second, our lives were not in danger simply by being in close proximity to the location where Owen died. And third, I was the only one prepping for Thanksgiving; she was drinking coffee and complaining.

  “I think you might be overreacting,” I told her.

  She rolled her eyes. “You always think I’m overreacting.”

  “Well, it’s usually because you are.”

  She took another sip of coffee and pulled her sweater tighter around her. I made a mental note to check the thermostat sooner rather than later.

  “Why was Jill here last night?”

  I pulled a bag of potatoes from the pantry. “I told you. To drop off the pie.” I glanced at the counter by the refrigerator, confirming the bakery box Jill had brought and Laura had taken was where it was supposed to be.

  “Is that the only reason?”

  I dumped several potatoes into the sink and turned the faucet on. The water that shot out was ice cold and I adjusted the temperature.

  “Mom? Did you hear me?”

  “Oh. Yes.”

  It wasn’t a lie, per se. Jill had come by for the sole reason of dropping off the pie. We’d talked about other things, and then the sheriff had shown up and accused her of murder, but it wasn’t like Jill had planned on any of that happening.

  “And you’re really done with looking into suspects and motives and all that stuff?”

  I scrubbed at a potato, watching the water turn brown as it collected in the sink.

  “We had a nice night last night, didn’t we?” I said, avoiding her question. “Playing cards and dominoes.”

  “Well, sure,” Laura admitted.

  I looked over my shoulder at her. “And did I mention anything about the case?”

  She shook her head.

  “Did anyone call or interrupt us, or take me away in any way?”

  Another head shake.

  “Does that answer your question?”

  She thought for a minute, and a reluctant smile tugged at her lips. “I guess.”

  I turned my attention back to the potatoes.

  I wouldn’t mention that Jill’s revelations were on my mind. I wouldn’t tell her that Gunnar had been impossible when I’d walked Jill home, and that I was beginning to question why the fact that I’d invited people over for Thanksgiving bothered him so much.

  I stilled.

  People.

  Thanksgiving.

  I swallowed. I’d never told Laura about the potential extra guest.

  Eric.

  The friend of Owen, the murder victim.

  I thought frantically, trying to figure out the best way to explain why Eric might be coming over…and how he’d gotten the invitation in the first place.

  A knock at the kitchen door startled me, and I was instantly relieved. A distraction from having to tell Laura was the coward’s way out, but I wasn’t above taking it, even though I knew I’d still have to come up with something to tell her.

  I was cool with putting that off, even if just for a few minutes. If someone was distracting me, it wasn’t avoidance that was hampering me. At least that’s what I told myself.

  But then I frowned as I made my way to the door. The only person who used the kitchen door was Gunnar, and he usually walked right in.

  I wasn’t in the mood to see him, especially after the petulance he’d displayed last night.

  I opened the door and smiled in relief. It wasn’t Gunnar.

  But then surprise replaced that.

  Because Mikey was standing on my doorstep, looking more worried than I’d ever seen him.

  “Mikey.” The surprise was evident in my tone. “What are you doing here?”

  He snatched the baseball cap off his head, revealing his short-cropped hair. He clutched the cap to his chest, almost as if it was a stand-in for rosary beads. Considering how close he’d gotten to becoming a priest, this probably wasn’t too far off the mark.

  “I’m sorry to bother you on Thanksgiving,” he said. “Happy Thanksgiving, by the way.”

  His breath was frosty and the cold air stole into the kitchen, making my nose water and my skin prickle with goosebumps.

  “Come in,” I told him, swinging the door open wider and stepping aside so he could get by me. “And Happy Thanksgiving to you, too.”

  He stayed planted on the floor mat, even after I’d closed the door.

  “And I'm sorry for showing up at the back door, but I figured at this time of day, you'd be in the kitchen, what with it being Thanksgiving and all.”

  “It's not a problem,” I said. “You're welcome at any of my doors.”

  He nodded stiffly. “My buddy didn't think it was a good idea to come to the back door. Thought you might think it was an intruder or something. Warned me you might have a gun.” He almost chuckled as he said this.

  “Your buddy? A gun?”

  “Yeah, Tim. He can be a little paranoid. One of those doomsday preppers, you know? Anyway, I was changing my oil so I couldn't drive myself over. He works over in Winslow, lives a few doors down. He was nice enough to give me a ride over.”

  I didn't know anyone who'd done car maintenance on a major holiday, but I could see the reasoning behind it. With as many hours as Mikey tended to work, it probably was as good of a day as any to take apart a car.

  And I definitely didn't know any doomsday preppers.

  “You can come in,” I told him. I motioned toward the table. “Do you want a cup of coffee? A muffin? We have some pumpkin muffins I was going to serve for breakfast. You’re welcome to have one.”

  He shook his head. “No, I…I can’t stay.” He cast a nervous glance at Laura, who was eyeing him with open suspicion. “I…I sort of need a favor. Well, I don’t, but someone you know does.”

  I couldn’t help but sneak a peek at Laura. Her eyes had narrowed and her mouth was pursed, as if she were waiting for him to ask me to help solve yet another crime.

  I was, too.

  “A favor?” I forced a smile. “What kind of favor?”

  He fingered the cap nervously, spinning it in his hands. His words came out in a rush. “It’s Dawn. She’s been taken in for questioning.”

  TWENTY SEVEN

  “Tell me what happened.”

  Mikey and I were in my car and on our way to the Bueller County sheriff’s office.

  Laura hadn’t said a word when I agreed to go. She'd just nodded stiffly and retreated to the bedroom where Connor was still sleeping. Guilt had nagged at me as I brushed my teeth and pulled my hair back, and then again as I slipped into my shoes and headed for the car. I’d told Laura I was done with the investigation, but at the first sign of someone needing help, I’d jumped right back in.

  I had good reasons. Dawn had been taken in for questioning, which meant the sheriff must have thought he was one step closer to charging her with Owen’s murder. I didn’t know if that meant he’d found more “evidence” or if he simply wanted to stir up trouble for Dawn. That explanation didn’t make sense, though, especially considering the fact that he’d stopped by my own house last night, informing me that nothing was going to come between his turkey dinner and jellied cranberry sauce.

  “I don’t know much,” Mikey said. He’d replaced the ball cap, settling it back on his head, and was now drumming his fingertips on his knee. “I got a call from Martin about an hour ago. Said the sheriff showed up on their doorstep and took Dawn in for questioning. He asked me if I could get in touch with you.”

  I bit back a si
gh. Why did everyone in this town call me when things went awry?

  I was in unchartered territory here. I had no idea what Dawn might be up against. Well, I knew the sheriff was a bumbling fool, but as far as logistics and procedures were concerned, I was a fish out of water.

  I fumbled for my phone and finally located it at the bottom of my purse. With one hand on the steering wheel, I thumbed through my contacts and found the number I was looking for.

  “If you’re calling to wish me a happy Thanksgiving this early in the morning, just hang up now.” Mack’s voice was gravelly, and I knew I’d woken him up.

  “Look, I’m sorry to wake you,” I said. “And, yeah, Happy Thanksgiving, but I need help.”

  “With your dinner? This isn’t the turkey hotline.”

  “Not with my dinner,” I said.

  I quickly relayed what had happened over the last couple of days. I was met with silence as I talked, which made me wonder if Mack had fallen asleep.

  “Are you still there?”

  He yawned. “Yeah, yeah, I’m here. So you got a bit of a murder mystery there, huh?”

  “Seems like it.”

  “And a friend of yours is the prime suspect.”

  “She’s not a friend. And there are actually a few people the sheriff is eyeing as potential suspects, but she’s the one he hauled in this morning.”

  “Any intel on the situation?”

  I shook my head, even though he couldn’t see me. “As far as I can tell, all he has is circumstantial evidence. He didn’t dust for prints, and because the murder weapon was a pillow, I don’t think there’s much they can do with that from a forensic standpoint.”

  “A pillow?”

  “Don’t ask.”

  Mack yawned again. “I don’t have much advice for you, Rainy.”

  My heart sank. “No?”

  “Well, actually, I take that back. You need to get to your friend asap and make sure she doesn’t talk.”

  “I’m already on my way.”

  “Good,” he said, and I could almost see him nodding his head in approval. “And one more thing.”

  “What’s that?” I asked, feeling my hopes start to rise.

  “Tell her to get a lawyer.”

  I ended the call and tried to tamp down the helplessness I was feeling. I wanted to find the magic bullet that would make all of this disappear, but it wasn’t looking promising.

  “Did Martin say anything else?” I asked Mikey, my phone now sitting in my lap.

  We were driving through downtown Latney, on our way to Winslow, where the sheriff’s office was located. The streets were deserted, the businesses dark. It looked as though the entire town was still asleep.

  “Not really,” Mikey answered. “I mean, he grumbled about the sheriff and I could tell he was worried about Dawn, but that was pretty much it.”

  I stopped at the stop sign, then continued driving.

  “Tell me what you know about Dawn and Owen’s conversation at the bar.”

  I glanced at him and he frowned. “Why?”

  “I heard Dawn’s version of what happened,” I said. “Maybe you can shed a little light on what it looked like from an outsider’s point of view.”

  “I’m not an outsider.”

  “You know what I mean. As someone who wasn’t directly involved in the conversation.”

  “I don’t want to talk about him,” Mikey said. He was clearly agitated by the topic.

  It was my turn to frown. “Why not?”

  “Because he’s nothing but bad news,” he said darkly. “Always has been.”

  “What do you mean?” He had piqued my curiosity.

  “You saw him when you were there,” he said. “He was always causing trouble for Dawn. Always walked around the restaurant like he was the boss, drinking and eating whatever he wanted, pulling money out of the till.”

  I gaped at him. “What? Why on earth would Dawn let him get away with something like that?”

  Mikey gave a harsh laugh. “What was she supposed to do?”

  “Kick him out?” I suggested. “Tell him to leave and never come back.”

  Mikey laughed again, a sharp bark that caught me off guard. “And how’s she supposed to do that when he owns the place?”

  TWENTY EIGHT

  I swerved to the side of the road. The wheels crunched over the gravel and the brakes whined as I screeched to a stop.

  “What?”

  “You heard me.”

  I stared at Mikey. “Owen owns the Wicked Wich?”

  He nodded. “Part-owner. He and Dawn are equal partners.” He scowled. “At least on paper.”

  I gripped the steering wheel. This was news to me.

  “I think you better tell me everything,” I said. “Start from the beginning.”

  Mikey plucked the cap off his head. “I don’t have all the details, just what Dawn has told me and what I’ve overheard.”

  “That’s good enough.”

  He exhaled. “Okay, so I guess the restaurant originally belonged to Dawn and Owen’s grandfather. When he died, he left the place to them. Equal partners. Dawn was working somewhere else at the time—I think maybe Toby’s—but she quit that job and threw herself into the Wich. Pretty much turned it around, from what I’ve heard.”

  “And Owen?”

  His scowl deepened. “He didn’t give a rat’s you-know-what about that restaurant.”

  This did not surprise me.

  “Dawn offered to buy him out over and over again, but he was never interested. Said it was his inheritance, too, and that she was trying to rob him of it.”

  Offering to buy him out negated that argument, but I could see Owen making the claim. It fit what I had learned about him.

  “That must have been frustrating for Dawn,” I said.

  The feeling of sympathy I had for Dawn surprised me. I couldn’t imagine being in that position, having something I was passionate about and that I wanted to see succeed being thwarted by someone else in an ownership role whose ambivalence and outright animosity was on full display.

  Mikey nodded. “Drove her crazy.”

  I gripped the steering wheel tighter, my knuckles turning white, because a new thought suddenly occurred to me.

  If Dawn had been that frustrated with Owen, that angry over his involvement in her business and the fact that he maintained equal ownership, what would she do to be free of his influence? Would she go so far as to murder her own brother? With him out of the picture, the restaurant would be hers, free and clear.

  I swallowed against the lump of anxiety forming in my throat and slowly pulled back on to the road.

  Mikey had definitely shed a little light on the situation. Actually, a whole lot of light. Because I finally had the missing link that could tie Dawn to the crime.

  It wasn’t a link I’d been looking for as we drove to the sheriff’s office, and it wasn’t a link I’d wanted to find: a motive for Dawn to kill her brother.

  Warring emotions raged through me as we drove the last few minutes to Winslow. Before I knew it, we were pulling into the small parking lot outside the sheriff’s office, right next to Sheriff Lewis’s sedan.

  I turned off the ignition but made no move to get out. Mikey didn’t say anything, just sat there with his cap still in his hands.

  I didn’t know what to do.

  Martin had asked Mikey to get in touch with me because he wanted my help. Dawn was in trouble and I’d been the one he’d thought to reach out to.

  The only problem was that I was pretty sure I wasn’t on Dawn’s side anymore.

  With the latest discovery, I was forced to admit that all signs pointed to Dawn as the likely suspect.

  And the only thing I was equipped to do at this point was to follow Mack’s advice.

  Which was to tell Dawn to get a lawyer.

  TWENTY EIGHT

  Trudy, the office receptionist, was not at her desk.

  This wasn’t a huge surprise. It was Thanksgiving, aft
er all.

  The door to the office had been unlocked, and was even open a crack, so I didn’t feel bad about pushing our way in. It was a public building and if the door was unlocked, we had every right to be there.

  I just wasn’t sure I wanted to be.

  I walked past Trudy’s desk and toward Sheriff Lewis’s office. This door was open too, and I could see the sheriff standing inside, his back to me. I craned my neck and was able to make out a woman sitting in a chair in front of him. Dawn. Martin was nowhere to be seen.

  I pushed the door open and the sheriff spun on his heel to face me.

  The first thing I noticed was that he was not in uniform. Instead of wearing his standard khakis and button-down shirt, he was dressed in jeans that looked as though they might have been fashionable in the eighties and a gray sweatshirt that had an iron-on of a turkey dinner pressed into the middle. His hat was gone, and I was taken aback by the thick shock of white hair that covered his head.

  He greeted me with a glare. “What are you doing here?”

  I smiled frostily. “Happy Thanksgiving to you, too.”

  He grunted.

  “I thought you weren’t going to work today,” I said to the sheriff. “Something about not letting anything get in the way of you and your turkey dinner.” I motioned to the iron-on on his sweatshirt.

  He glanced down at it, then looked back at me with a frown. “What are you doing here?” he growled.

  I gestured toward Mikey, who was lurking behind me, almost as if he didn’t want to be seen. “He told me you’d brought Dawn in for questioning.” I looked at the woman sitting in the chair, the woman who appeared to be ready to claw someone’s eyes out. The woman who in all likelihood had murdered her own brother. “Which it appears you have.”

  “This is a criminal investigation!” the sheriff roared.

  If he was trying to intimidate me, it wasn’t working. I wasn’t a lawyer and I wasn’t a real detective, but I had learned a couple of things working for Mack, a couple of things he’d reiterated to me over and over again.

  “She doesn’t need to answer any questions without a lawyer present,” I said calmly. I hesitated for just a second before adding, “And she shouldn’t. We've been over this before, sheriff. Maybe write it down so you don't forget?”