Bran New Death(42)

“Do tell,” I said. I couldn’t wait to hear this.

Zeke nodded and his Adam’s apple bounced up and down his throat. “That’s prob’ly it. At last year’s Autumn Vale Harvest Fair, Miss Openshaw set up a booth selling catnip mice to benefit the kitty cat rescue organization she’s trying to start, you know.”

Silence. “And?” I prompted.

Gordy took up the story. “Well, then Mrs. Hooper, who was the organizer, you see, told her she couldn’t collect money for a charity if it wasn’t registered, and made her close up her booth. Miss Openshaw was left with 227 catnip mice and nowhere to get rid of ’em. Ended up giving ’em to the shelter over in Ridley Ridge to give away with every cat adopted.”

“Is that it?”

Gordy and Zeke both looked surprised at my comment. “Caused quite a kerfuffle at the time,” Zeke said, and Gordy nodded in agreement.

Still, the devil’s pawn? Wasn’t that a little harsh over catnip mice? Maybe I just didn’t get the complicated nature of relationships in small towns.

Shilo and I ate our lunch, my head swimming with all the oddball people I was meeting. Autumn Vale was turning out to be one strange little burg, more entertaining than any street corner in the weirdest section of New York. Was it something in the water? Maybe I’d better stick to Perrier, I thought, pushing away my glass of tap water.

“Zeke, back to Dinah Hooper . . . I understand her son, Dinty, lived here with her for a while. When did he leave? And why?”

Gordy sniffed and crossed his arms, while Zeke ruminated for a long moment, then said, “You had to know Dinty. He was a troublesome sort. Him and Tom . . . they didn’t get along at all. Not at all.”

“Okay, so they didn’t get along. Is that why Dinty left town?”

“You could say that. I heard it all,” Gordy said. “Tom, in front of everyone, told Dinty he better keep his shifty eyes off Binny, or he’d give him what for. Dinty called her a name, Tom lit into him, and the next day Dinty packed up his Jeep and headed out of town. Dinah said he had talked about heading out west to Denver to get a job in construction. Autumn Vale didn’t have the right kind of opportunities for a guy like him.”

Zeke rolled his eyes. “Otisville is the only place with opportunities for a guy like that.”

“Otisville?”

“Federal prison,” Gordy filled in.

As Shilo chased down the last scraps of her pancakes, spearing them with little grunts of satisfaction, I rose, strolling over to Junior Bradley. I had no idea how to approach him, but didn’t want to miss the opportunity. “Hi,” I said, then had a brainstorm. I’d ask about my uncle’s desire to create a condo community, and whether zoning had been approved! It seemed like a great conversation starter. “I understand that you’re the local zoning commissioner. My name is Merry Wynter, the new owner of Wynter Castle. I was wondering if I could talk to you for a moment.” I was about to slide into the empty seat opposite him when he abruptly stood up, folding his newspaper and tucking it under his arm.

“I don’t talk business in public. Call and make an appointment,” he said, towering over me. He was a big guy. He thrust a card at me just before striding off, weaving through the variety-store section at the front.

Business card in hand, I stared off after him. What a grouch! I had hoped to start with the zoning, then slide in a couple of questions about his relationship with Tom Turner, but maybe it would be better if I did so in private. Hannah had presented him as a possible killer, though, so I sure wasn’t going alone. I’d drag someone with me, preferably male; maybe Jack McGill.

Junior Bradley didn’t look like someone I wanted to mess with, but I could understand why he didn’t want to talk in the local luncheonette. Talking business in the open in a small town was probably not a good policy unless you wanted that business spread through the gossip mill. Anyway, I was sure that Virgil would have heard about the fight between him and Tom, and questioned him about it. But it still would be worth my while to talk to Junior. I returned to my table but just shook my head when Shilo asked me what happened.

Gordy and Zeke ambled off, stopping at our table to say an awkward good-bye, as Gordy ogled a final eyeful of Shilo. Zeke angled for an invitation to the castle, and I brushed off his hints by saying that once I had some of the changes made and the cleanup accomplished, I’d be inviting the whole town to come have a look.

After lunch we headed back to Wynter Castle. Virgil and the team were still there, and I didn’t even want to think about what they were doing, or if they had removed Tom Turner’s poor, broken body. It was like this sore spot that I was avoiding touching or acknowledging, too awful to even think about. But as Shilo turned off the car—it always stuttered and yammered and banged before it actually shut down—Virgil headed toward us. We got out and waited, leaning on the hood.