Sour Grapes Page 2

  Gunnar woke me up early, heading out around eight for an appointment he had, but I somehow managed to still miss my window to get the seedlings in the ground.

  I finished folding the laundry, restacking the clothes back into the laundry basket, and stared out the living room window. The gray ceiling of clouds hung low in the sky. Rain was coming down in buckets, and thunder rattled the windowpanes.

  “So much for planting,” I mumbled.

  I’d intended to head outside as soon as Gunnar left and as soon as I’d eaten, but I’d found an inordinate number of other things that needed my attention: starting a load of laundry, wiping down the bathroom, yanking the broom out of the closet and sweeping the stairs. Then Luke had called and I spent twenty minutes talking to him, because his calls did not come often and I wasn’t going to pass up an opportunity to get caught up with my son. Not once during our conversation did I notice the sky darkening and the sound of thunder rumbling in the distance. By the time we hung up, streaks of lightning were lighting the sky and rain began pelting the windows and I knew I was out of luck.

  Even after the storms cleared by late morning, I knew the ground would be too wet to dig in. Heading out to feed the chickens confirmed this, as my boots sloshed through the muck. I debated what I could do so that the day wouldn’t feel like a total waste. I had at least a dozen things on my spring cleaning list, but none of them sounded terribly enticing. I didn’t want to wash windows. I didn’t feel like taking down all the curtains and washing them. I certainly didn’t want to empty and wipe down the kitchen cupboards.

  My gaze landed back on the laundry basket and I smiled. I knew exactly what I could do. There were two bags filled with donations sitting in the spare bedroom. I’d gone through my closet last week and sorted through all of my clothes and shoes, and had come up with heaps to get rid of. I’d rarely dressed up when I worked at Capitol Cases, but there had been some days when I went in wearing dress pants and nice shirts. My days in Latney rarely required me to throw on anything other than a pair of jeans and a t-shirt, so I’d made the decision to clear out some much needed space in my tiny closet. The century-old farmhouse I called home was charming in a lot of ways, but the one thing it lacked—and that I wished it had—was more storage space, especially in the bedrooms.

  I picked up the laundry basket and carried it upstairs and five minutes later, I was hauling the bags of donations back down into the living room. I could run them into Winslow and drop them off at the thrift store there. And I could still cross something off my list.

  The clouds were already clearing as I drove through Latney. The sun shone on the wet road and the few people out walking had stowed their umbrellas and were navigating the puddles that had created a virtual minefield on the sidewalks.

  There were a couple of cars parked outside the Wicked Wich and I wondered what business was like on the first day without Mikey there. Was Dawn trying to do everything? I slowed as I drove by and noticed a handwritten Help Wanted sign hanging in the door. It was written in red marker, the letters long and harsh, and I could imagine Dawn scowling as she angrily dragged the pen across the paper. It was probably killing her to ask for help. I remembered just how hard it had been for her to ask me to look into her brother Owen’s death.

  I passed by Toby’s and the side street that led to St. Simon’s, and visions of Declan sitting in his office flitted through my mind. I’d spent more hours than I could count parked across from him, just chatting or asking for advice or hashing out whatever situation I was currently embroiled in. I could picture Declan as easily as if he were sitting in the car next to me: his coppery hair, his friendly, boyish smile, his furious blush when he got flustered. That particular nuance of his had waned over the last few months, and I would be lying if I said I didn’t sometimes miss seeing that telltale sign spread across his face.

  I wondered how things were going for him in Brazil. Was it unbearably hot? Were there tons of bugs? What were his living arrangements like? Had the people in the community warmed to him? Were they treating him kindly or did they look at him as an outsider? I knew all too well how that felt. Even after a year of living in Latney, there were lots of people who still thought I didn’t belong there.

  Too bad, I thought with a smirk. I wasn’t going anywhere.

  I tried to shelve my thoughts about Declan, to think of something else, so I focused on Mikey’s new restaurant instead, trying to bring up a picture of it in my mind as I drove closer to Winslow.

  Mikey had named the restaurant the Cow & Vine. Chuck, the guy he was partnering with, knew several owners of local wineries, so they decided their niche would be burgers and wine. It was an odd concept, but I could see it working. People liked burgers, the simplicity of the meal and the complexity of how they could be custom created, and people also liked wine. Wineries dotted the Virginia map, and there were at least half a dozen within an hour’s drive of Winslow. Serving regional wines at a restaurant had the potential to be a boon for both the wineries supplying the beverage and the restaurant serving it. Mikey had mentioned that the menu would be a little more expansive than just burgers, and I was eager to see just what other items he’d come up with.

  I slowed as I approached Winslow, noting the change in speed limit on the outskirts of town. The Bueller County sheriff’s office was about a half mile up, smack dab in the middle of town, and the last thing I needed was for Sheriff Lewis to be out on patrol and accuse me of speeding. Even after all this time, and after all the ways I’d proved myself useful to the residents of Latney, I was pretty sure he still had it in for me. I was fairly certain that he was secretly hoping he could somehow figure out a way to pin a murder on me. But it would've been a lot easier for him to nail me for speeding and I didn't want to give him the opportunity.

  The Cow & Vine was less than a block from the thrift store, on my left as I passed the sheriff’s office. Sheriff Lewis’s patrol car was in the lot, as was Cindy's, the receptionist’s, sedan. I tried not to floor it as I drove past. If the sheriff saw me driving by, that alone might trigger a response. And an arrest.

  I took my foot off the gas and stared out the window as I neared the restaurant. It was a small brick building with its own private parking lot. The red and beige bricks had been scrubbed clean, and there were metal details that had been added to the exterior to modernize the place. Solid metal doors and corrugated metal patches bolted to the wall in an almost patchwork configuration. Metal bottle cut-outs, arranged like bouquets of flowers and bolted to the wall, and a custom metal sign that proclaimed the restaurant’s name. It looked funky and fun, and I couldn’t wait for it to be open for business. Even though it was a further drive than the Wicked Wich, that wasn’t going to stop me from being a regular there. I owed it to Mikey. And my stomach.

  I turned my attention back to the road but then hit the brakes and whipped my head back around.

  I’d been so busy admiring the restaurant that I hadn’t noticed something was missing.

  Something big.

  Really big.

  The world’s largest cow statue, the one that had been covered with a tarp the last time I’d driven through Winslow, was nowhere to be seen.

  FOUR

  “The cow is gone.”

  From the tone of Mikey’s voice, he could have been telling me that we breathed oxygen or that the sky was blue. There wasn’t a hint of emotion in it, and I wondered if he was in shock.

  I’d pulled over as soon as I noticed the statue was missing, veering into the empty parking lot. It was then that I noticed Mikey and an older man standing outside of the restaurant, both of them looking lost and unsure what to do.

  “Where did it go?” I asked.

  The other man glared at me. He was easily fifty, tall and thin, with graying hair and sunken cheekbones. His razor thin eyebrows drew together. “Where do you think it went?” he snapped. “Someone stole it!”

  “Stole it?” I echoed. I glanced around the parking lot, my eyes zeroing
in on the spot where I thought I’d last seen the statue. “Isn’t it a little...big to steal?”

  The man’s frown deepened. “It's more than big. It's the world’s largest cow statue. And now it's gone!”

  I turned back to Mikey. He was staring at the empty spot in the lot.

  “It was stolen?” I asked him.

  He gave a half shrug. “Sure looks like it.”

  “When was the last time you saw it?” I asked as gently as I could.

  Mikey glanced at me, his expression unreadable. “Last night. It was here last night. I swear it was.” He rubbed his eyes. “At least I think it was. I left around midnight.”

  “Well, was it or wasn’t it?” the man standing next to him snapped.

  “I don’t know,” Mikey admitted.

  The man let out an exasperated sigh. “How could you not know? It’s the world’s largest cow statue. It’s not like you could miss it!”

  I took a step forward, positioning myself closer to Mikey. “Who are you?” I asked.

  The man scowled. “I could ask you the same thing, except I know who you are. You’re the lady who thinks she’s a police officer.”

  I stiffened. “I do not.”

  “Always going around sticking your nose where it doesn’t belong.” He sniffed. “Like now.”

  “That’s enough.” Mikey’s tone surprised both of us. Gone was the impassive man surveying the spot where a statue had once stood. His voice was sharp, pointed, and the man pulled back a little, probably as surprised as I was over Mikey’s quick change in temperament. “Rainy, this is Chuck Graham, my business partner. Chuck, this is Rainy, my friend.” He put heavy emphasis on the word, and Chuck noticed.

  “Sorry,” he mumbled, averting his eyes. He toed the pavement with one of his shiny black loafers. “I’m a little upset.”

  “I understand,” I said coolly. I was still irritated with how he’d referred to me and how he’d spoken to Mikey, but I let it go for the moment. “You have every right to be upset.” To Mikey, I said, “You really think someone stole it?”

  He shrugged again. “I don’t know. Where else would it have gone? It was a statue, not a real cow. Not like it could have wandered away.”

  Chuck groaned. “I can’t believe this is happening. We have people coming from all over the state—from out of state!—for the big unveiling. And now it’s just...gone. We are ruined. Ruined!”

  His words registered and a stricken look crossed Mikey’s face. It was almost as if the reality of what had happened was just sinking in. Of course, Chuck’s reaction wasn’t helping keep the panic at bay; if anything, he was exacerbating it.

  Mikey closed his eyes and scrubbed a hand over his face. “I’ve invested my entire inheritance in this,” he said in a low voice, and to no one in particular. “I can’t fail at this. I can’t.”

  “People will still come,” I said firmly. “It’s just a statue. People will be coming for the food and for the wine. The statue won’t matter.”

  Chuck gave me a penetrating stare, his thin eyebrows arched in such a way that he looked like a cartoon character. “Are you serious? Do you know how big the world’s largest crowd is, the people who follow these things? People will travel thousands of miles to see new pieces of art. I’ve put out advertisements about this for months; I’ve personally contacted local and national groups. It isn’t every day that a new statue is unveiled and unseats an existing world’s largest.” He paused. “If they show up here and there's nothing for them to ooh and aah over, do you know what they'll do? They'll grab their phones, get on Yelp and Facebook and Twitter, and they'll let us have it.”

  I pressed my lips together so my mouth wouldn’t drop open. Was he serious? Were people really that passionate about seeing the world’s largest statues and traveling the country—and apparently the globe—to see them?

  “This could devastate us,” Chuck muttered. “We have to find the statue before we open.” He kicked the pavement and paced away from us, his hands shoved deep in his pockets.

  Mikey’s shoulders sagged. His cheeks burned red and if I wasn’t mistaken, I thought I could see the hint of tears welling up in his eyes. My own eyes welled up in response. I knew how important this was to him, and I knew I couldn’t just stand around. I had to find a way to help, to make this better for him. He needed the restaurant to succeed, and it sounded like the missing statue was a pretty big component to ensuring the Cow & Vine would be a success.

  “I can help,” I said in a low voice.

  Mikey looked at me questioningly.

  “I can help,” I repeated. “I can look for the statue.”

  His brow furrowed.

  “I’m good at finding things,” I said quickly. “At solving mysteries. You know that. And you still have things to do to get this place ready, right? You can't take time away from those things to look for the...cow.”

  He didn’t say anything, and I wondered if maybe he didn’t want my help.

  I swallowed. “Do you want me to help, Mikey? If you don’t, I...I understand.”

  He hesitated.

  “Yes,” he finally said. “I want you to help.”

  FIVE

  I DIDN’T HAVE A CLUE how to find the world’s largest cow.

  But I knew I had to try.

  I got some basic information from Mikey—the dimensions and color of the missing statue, and when he was certain he last saw it—and then told him I’d be in touch. Chuck had disappeared into the restaurant with a supplier who’d shown up while we were in the parking lot, and I told Mikey to let his partner know that I was on the case. I hoped that would be a bitter pill for him to swallow, especially since he’d had such disparaging things to say about me.

  I drove back toward Latney and pulled off at Toby’s, the local grocery store. I knew finding the statue was priority number one, but I also knew I was almost out of creamer. And nothing was going to get done without coffee.

  I grabbed a red basket and looped it over my arm. The store was bright and clean, as I’d come to expect, and the smell of rotisserie chicken in the deli mingled with fresh-baked cookies from the bakery section. I’d grazed throughout the morning, eating a handful of granola for breakfast and then snacking on almonds and grapes while I folded laundry. My stomach tried to talk me into buying everything that smelled good but I held firm. I’d get creamer and some hamburger buns and some yogurt, and then get out of there before my body tried to convince me otherwise. I was already weak from the aroma coming from the bakery.

  I rounded the corner to head to the dairy section and almost ran into Sophia Rey.

  She pulled back on her cart, and the tiny white dog perched in the child’s seat let out a yip of surprise. She leaned down, the gold bracelets she was wearing tinkling as they slid down her wrists, and whispered in her dog’s ear. It whimpered again and she lavished it with reassuring kisses. I tried not to roll my eyes.

  She glanced at me, a hint of accusation reflected in her own eyes. She looked like a regal queen staring down her nose at a lowly subject, her blonde hair perfectly brushed, her make-up impeccable, her designer jeans and black sweater clinging to her as if they had been custom-made just for her.

  “Sorry,” I mumbled.

  “You sure are in a hurry,” Sophia commented, straightening. One manicured hand was still stroking the dog’s fur. “You almost knocked poor Tallulah out of the cart. Or do you always whirl through the grocery store like a Tasmanian devil?”

  I forced a smile. “I’m usually a little more careful. I didn’t mean to startle you.” I glanced at the dog. “Uh, or Tallulah.”

  Sophia glanced adoringly at the dog in the shopping cart. “Well, you know how anxious she gets,” she said. She planted a kiss on the dog’s black nose. “That’s why I bring her everywhere. Poor dear.”

  I knew all about Sophia’s dog, and the supplements and medicine they used to keep her canine anxiety at bay. I’d been coerced into retrieving a package for the dog from Sophia’s house...a
nd had opened an entirely different can of worms instead.

  “I’ll get out of your way and let you finish shopping,” I said. “It was nice to see you, but I’m in a bit of a hurry.”

  I tried to step around her but Sophia held on to the cart, effectively blocking my path. A frown marred her pretty face. “Does this have anything to do with the statue?”

  I raised my eyebrows. “What?”

  “Why you’re in such a hurry.” She glanced up and down the aisle and then leaned toward me. “I just saw Sheriff Lewis at the bank,” she whispered. “When the call came through.”

  She was certainly astute; I’d give her that. And just as nosy as ever. “Mikey called it in?” I tried to ignore the pang of disappointment. Maybe he didn’t trust me to look into it, after all.

  Sophia shook her head. “No, Chuck did. He wants the sheriff to put out an all points bulletin on it.” She frowned. “So you do know about it, don’t you?”

  I nodded. I could tell she was disappointed that she hadn’t been the one to break the news. “What did Sheriff Lewis say?” I asked.

  Sophia smoothed her hair back and smiled. “He said he was the APB. And that he’d keep his eyes open for it. He didn’t sound terribly concerned, though.”

  “Of course he didn’t,” I muttered. The only crimes Sheriff Lewis seemed remotely concerned about were the ones that he thought might involve me. I was pretty sure his sole goal in life was to find a way to lock me up, regardless of whether or not I’d committed any crime.

  “I know you and Mikey are close,” Sophia commented. “I just thought I should tell you in case you want to...I don’t know, do something. But apparently you’re already aware of the situation.”

  “I just came from there,” I told her. “But thank you for telling me.” As soon as I said the words, I regretted them. I had just thanked her for gossiping.

  “Of course.” She smiled. “It’s the least I can do.” Something flickered in her eyes. “You will look into it, right?”

  “Well, sure,” I said. “I told Mikey I would. He’s my friend, and I’m concerned about how this might affect him and his new restaurant.”