Chicken Culprit Read online

  “You okay in there? Need any help?” Kandi’s youthful voice came through.

  “No, I’ve got my walker in here with me.” Anne grinned at her own quip.

  “Okay. Good.” The young woman’s voice rang out.

  Anne rolled her eyes. “I was being facetious. I don’t have a walker!”

  “Well, how long will it take to be facetious? I want to put the frittata in the oven and don’t want it getting cold.”

  This woman has to be dumber than a brick. Oh geez, how mean. Anne gripped the sides of the sink, her pale arms freckled by the sun, and scrutinized her sad, tired eyes in the mirror. What’s wrong with you, Anne?

  “I won’t be long. You can go ahead and put it in.” “Great. I’ll just finish putting your dishes away.”

  Kandi shuffled away from the door, quietly humming to herself.

  Anne grimaced. If there was anything worse than moving into a house, it had to be someone else deciding the best place for things. She went to grab her coat and then decided against it. She’d take a quick shower and stop the young woman before she got too far into it. Anne turned this way and that, inspecting her hair in the mirror for any errant pieces of lettuce or other compost material. While happy not to find any more fruit or vegetables, she did notice strands of gray that stood out against the darker strands. Am I old? When did that happen? Nah.

  Finally in the shower, the warm water cascading down her back, Anne paused to think. Moving at forty-four had proven physically challenging. Twenty years ago she wouldn’t have had these aches and pains. But with the constant strain of her marriage, the accident—no, she wouldn’t think about that—and little exercise, it was no wonder fatigue hit so hard. Well, it wouldn’t last for long. She couldn’t—no, she wouldn’t—let it. She knew her own strength now.

  Emerging from the shower, she opened a box marked herbal . Inside, she found the jar of comfrey salve and applied it to her scraped elbows and hands. The compost had been soft, but she’d scratched them on the bushes as she’d fallen. Applying the soothing ointment on her skin brought comfort and she sighed deeply. Even the short shower had done its magic.

  Wiping the fog from the mirror, Anne checked her face for any dirt or scratches she’d missed. Even with so much time spent in the garden, she’d retained her pretty peaches-and-cream complexion. She combed the remaining tangles from her hair before pulling it into a top knot. She wrapped the towel back around her, wishing she’d brought clothes into the bathroom with her.

  She yawned. Between working late, poor sleep, and this morning’s fall, it was no wonder she was so tired. Passing into her bedroom, she looked longingly at the bed. She wanted to climb back under the covers and sleep for two days.

  Would Kandi get the hint if I never came out?

  Her stomach growled again. She took in a deep breath to fortify herself.

  “Okay, we can do this.”

  “Did you say something?” Kandi called to her.

  Anne had forgotten that her room—the old maid’s quarters—was so close to the kitchen.

  She tried to make her voice sound cheery. “Nothing.

  Just talking to myself. Please, don’t feel you need to stay on my account.”

  “Oh, no worries. I have, like, all the time in the world.

  Plus, I want to get to know my new neighbor.”

  Drat. Anne pulled on a soft cotton shift and headed for the kitchen.

  Kandi turned as Anne entered the room. “Wow. You look like one of those hippie chicks. Very cool.”

  “Thanks.” Anne motioned to the counters, now completely free of clutter. “I appreciate your help but, seriously, you don’t need to do anything.”

  “Not a problem. I have the same kitchen arrangement so I got most of it done while you were in the shower.” Kandi smiled up at Anne.

  “Thanks again.” Now I’ll have to redo everything. What is the matter with you? This girl is trying to help you.

  “Are you okay?” Kandi’s worried face came into view. “I’m sorry. I’ve been very tired lately. Probably the move and then the fall this morning.”

  Kandi kept staring. “Um, okay. If you say so.” She held up two pieces of bread. “I didn’t see any bread so I ran home and got some. Rye or spelt? Or if you’re like me, you have a hard time choosing. I’ll make both.” She looked around. “Toaster?”

  Anne grabbed the toaster from a box in the adjoining room. “What can I do to help?”

  “It’s about ready. Sit down and relax.” Kandi pointed to a chair.

  As Kandi worked, Anne watched the young woman. She stood at least four to six inches shorter than Anne.

  Her toned arms revealed a strong workout regimen. Her hair, a brilliant red, matched the bright lipstick she wore. Kandi’s freckled face, along with dimples when she smiled, explained Anne’s earlier impression of her youth. Yet strangely, the way she took command of the situation made her seem much older than her years. While the girl may not have had much education, she was certainly accomplished in the commonsense arts.

  As Kandi moved to take the frittata from the oven, her snug T-shirt rode up. Anne glimpsed the tattoo on Kandi’s back. It was simply the word Past .

  What did that mean? She felt more intrigued by her and what the tattoo meant. Anne fiddled with a paper napkin on the table. She had to be cordial no matter how tired or sore she felt. When was the last time anyone had taken such good care of her? She smiled up at Kandi. Kandi returned the smile. “I see you looking at my hair. Like it? It’s candy apple red. Get it? Like Kandi is my name—”

  “I get it. Cute.”

  “I told Cheryl to do something fun with it and she did! Jeff hates it, well…” A cloud passed over her features before she brightened again. “Never mind. Isn’t it fun?”

  Anne nodded.

  Kandi laid out the table. From a bag she must have retrieved while Anne was in the shower, she pulled a jar of homemade jam, a slab of butter, cream, and a carafe.

  Please, oh patron saint of tired peoples, let that be coffee. Kandi poured the steaming hot coffee into a mug and placed one in front of Anne and one at her own place.

  Then she cut the frittata and placed it on a plate with the toast.

  The smells of the rich coffee and cheesy frittata wafted in the air. Anne took in a deep breath and sighed contentedly. She’d been doing that a lot lately. The move had been a smart decision.

  “I’m feeling very spoiled. Thanks for everything.” She took a swig of the hot brew.

  Setting the plate in front of Anne, Kandi sat down. “Aren’t you eating?”

  “Nope, I’m on a new diet. Jeff’s been kidding me about getting a bit chubby.”

  A bit chubby? The girl was probably a minus-zero in size—if there was such a thing.

  Kandi went on. “You know, got to keep the figure. It’s the three-one-zero diet. Heard of it?” The young woman cocked her head to the side, her four earrings tinkling as she did so. She took a swig of black coffee. “So you eat three meals one day, then only one meal the next day, and then no food on the third day, then repeat. Plus they give you a huge list of foods not to eat so you don’t even have to think about it.” She gazed longingly at Anne’s plate.

  “Let me guess,” Anne replied. “None of what’s on this plate is okay to eat. Look, there’s nothing wrong with your figure. You’re the perfect size for your height and you’re pretty. Not to mention that you have a natural talent around the kitchen and you’re kind to strangers.”

  “Really?” Kandi jumped from her seat, darted around the table, and hugged Anne, who groaned from the strong embrace. She must have twisted something in her back when she’d fallen. Then the stupid adolescent display with the nailbrush. She’d kick herself for the outburst but that would hurt even more. With Kandi returning to her seat, Anne massaged the spot the nailbrush had hit.

  Anne focused on her coffee cup, pretending not to notice Kandi discreetly wipe tears from her eyes. After Kandi composed herself, Anne spoke. “Here
’s the thing, Kandi. I eat on my own enough. If you don’t eat, I don’t eat.”

  For the love of all that is good, please work.

  Anne shoved the plate away. She raised an eyebrow in a silent “well?” and waited.

  Kandi frowned, the internal debate evident in her face. “I don’t want you to go without because of me.” She grabbed a plate and filled it.

  Anne let out her breath. She pulled the plate to her and took a bite of the egg dish. The frittata, perfectly cooked, was delightfully light and fluffy. The onions, peppers, and mushrooms worked together in an exquisite sensory experience. The bread’s heavy texture provided the ideal complement for the creamy butter and homemade blackberry jam.

  “This is delicious, Kandi. You are a wonderful cook.”

  Kandi deflected the compliment by shrugging her shoulders. “I’ve been cooking since I was ten.”

  Ten! Curiouser and curiouser. Anne stared at the young girl.

  Seeing sadness pass over Kandi’s face, Anne didn’t respond. “So what’s the thing with my neighbor—Ralph, isn’t it?”

  Kandi brightened up. “Yes. Rotten Ralph. He’s so mean.” She took a swig of coffee before continuing. “My girls don’t mean any harm. They’re just, like, you know, chickens. And they like his tomatoes. It’s not like he can’t grow more. Though we do have a super short growing season. But nooooooo—he’s like”—she stood and imitated a stern male voice, “—I’m going to kill your chicken if you let it come over here anymore.”

  Anne stifled a chuckle as Kandi plopped back down in her chair.

  Kandi took a quick bite of toast before continuing. “He’s so mean to everybody. I don’t know why, but if he, like, ever hurts one of my girls, I’ll kill him!” She stabbed her fork into the frittata.

  Anne shook her head. The girl’s constant use of the word like drove her crazy. She felt like responding in kind “So, like, he hates your, like, chickens, and he isn’t very nice, like .” Instead she felt a tug on her heart for this part-woman, part-child.

  “Listen, Kandi, I appreciate everything you’ve done for me. I truly do. But I was up almost all last night getting things unloaded. I apologize but I’m feeling a bit cranky, and I think I need to ask if you’ll excuse me so I can get some rest.”

  Kandi nodded. “I can tell. You go get in bed and I’ll clean up.” Kandi gathered the now-empty plates.

  “Thanks. Really. But you don’t need to do that. You’ve done enough. I’ll take care of it when I get up.”

  Kandi set down the dishes. “You are sore. I can tell. I’ll take care of everything.” She pointed to the back bedroom, commanding, “Now, go!”

  Too tired to argue with this little spitfire, Anne nodded and shuffled to the bedroom. This time she locked the door behind her. She wasn’t sure if she wanted to hug the young woman or strangle her, but she was simply too tired to deal with it.

  Tomorrow would be better for murder.

  Chapter Two

  Lilac scent wafted through the open bedroom window. Anne fumbled for her phone on the bedside table.

  Two o’clock.

  Great. So much for getting anything accomplished today.

  Anne stared at the ceiling. Had she dreamed the morning escapades? No. She’d met Rotten Ralph, Kandi the Conversationalist, and Ralph’s nephew, Stewart the Smug.

  She groaned as she forced herself to sit up. The wrinkled dress bunched around her legs, and she pulled to untangle its folds. Maybe Kandi had left the coffee. Anne shuffled to the kitchen, a loud yawn escaping from her mouth.

  Dishes from the morning’s breakfast were washed and put away. On the table stood a mason jar full of sunflowers. A handwritten note on pink paper lay in front of it.

  Dear Anne,

  Came by, but you were still sleeping. Didn’t want to wake you. I told everyone about you moving in, so they all wanted to contribute. In the fridge you’ll find some of Marge’s goat cheese, milk from Sonny’s, and apples from the orchard down the road. Also some honey from Bill, pickled veggies from Velma, and some elderberry cordial from old lady Marie. Can you believe it? Even Rotten Ralph contributed some of his precious tomatoes. I could kill that man! Oh, Stew says if you need anything, let him know. Kandi XXOO

  Anne set the note down and opened the previously empty fridge. It now contained delightful goodies.

  How in the world did I not hear all this going on?

  Tears gathered. She sat down as they rolled down her cheeks. She’d been horrible to that girl, critiquing everything she’d done or said. Why?

  What’s the matter with you? This is the second time you’ve cried today. Pull yourself together woman.

  She took a deep breath. But the tears grew to deep gut-wrenching sobs.

  I’m going crazy. That’s what. I’m finally free from Duke and his demands and now I decide to go crazy?

  Wearily, she headed to the bedroom. She didn’t even remove her slippers before launching herself onto the bed and back into a deep sleep.

  By the time Anne woke, the room was cloaked in dappled shade from the tree outside her window. 5:30. She’d make some coffee and then get at least a few boxes unpacked.

  Anne made the same slow shuffle once more to the kitchen.

  Her back door stood open.

  She didn’t remember leaving it open. She moved to close it when a shadowy figure on the porch startled her. She screamed.

  Kandi stepped out of the gloom.

  Anne flipped on the switch, bathing the dark porch with light. “What are you doing? You scared me half to death!”

  Kandi giggled. “Don’t be a-scared, silly. No one, like, locks their doors here. We all keep a lookout for strangers, and, like, probably eighty percent of the townsfolk have guns. Hunters, don’tcha know.”

  Kandi laughed and then became serious. “Bears are sometimes spotted around here before hibernation. But it’s the mountain lions that have most people armed. You know, like, just in case.”

  Anne shivered at the idea of danger so close. She’d known moving to a small Colorado mountain town would take getting used to, but this was more than she’d considered. Bears. Mountain lions. She peered into the gathering gloom and deep forest at the edge of her property.

  Something was moving—no running—in the brush.

  Anne called out, “It’s a bear!”

  Kandi turned and squinted. She laughed. “Oh, that’s just a runner. There’s a trail back there. People walk and run it all the time. It runs along our area and out to the lake.”

  She pushed past a shaken Anne. “I came by to, like, look in and see if you needed more help. You weren’t up yet, so I came out here to enjoy the view.

  The young woman thrust out her neck, squinting. “You, like, don’t look so good.”

  “I’m pretty sure you’ve already told me that once today. Thank you very much.” Ugh. There, she was doing it again. Snippy. Anne pulled out a chair and sat down.

  “No. I mean you look sick. Do you feel bad?”

  Now that she’d mentioned it, Anne didn’t feel well. She’d attributed her fatigue and need for sleep to moving stress, all the work yesterday, plus the nasty tumble into the compost. But maybe there was more to it. . .

  No, too many projects. No time to be sick.

  “I’m just tired.” She ran her fingers through the hair that had fallen loose.

  The young woman tilted her head to the right again, a cockatoo with flaming red feathers sprouting atop her head.

  More like a cuckoo bird that drives you crazy on the hour.

  Anne smiled up at the girl who grinned back.

  “Okay, that does it. ‘Get your shoes on, Sally,’ cause we’re headed to the city.”

  “Um, what?”

  She swept past Anne, making a beeline to the mudroom. The small room had most likely been the scullery in its day. Anne followed her out on the porch. Kandi picked up a pair of clogs Anne had worn last night. They were covered in mud and muck. She thrust them at Anne. “Here, stick th
ese on.”

  “I have to comb my hair and put on something else—”

  “No time.” Kandi grabbed her hand and half-dragged Anne down the steps. Once they reached the gravel driveway, she motioned to Anne. “You go round to the front. I’ll meet you in the truck.” Kandi sprinted past the lilac hedge. “I’m taking you to our local doc.”

  Still too sleepy and disoriented to argue, Anne made her way around to the front of the house. Maybe she had the flu. She hadn’t been sleeping well. She felt like she had a fever and the next minute, chills. Going to a doctor wasn’t her priority, but she needed to figure out why she was feeling at odds and not herself.

  Reaching the street, Anne spied Stewart stomping away from Ralph’s house. Scowling, he strode over to a van of dubious running potential. Painted an ugly khaki green, bondo plaster covered much of the fender area. The van puffed out black smoke as it grudgingly started up. The vehicle roared to life, and its tires squealed as Stewart reversed, barely missing Ralph’s mailbox.

  As he left, Kandi pulled up in a shiny red Dodge pickup. Anne had barely closed the door when Kandi shifted into gear. “Geez, I wonder what’s got Stewart all hot under the collar? But, whatever. I called Hope, and she’s agreed to take a look at you. You’re one lucky woman. I think it’s because you’re new to town. Plus I begged her to see you.” She winked at Anne.

  Anne smiled back at the young woman. “Thanks, Kandi.”

  Kandi continued babbling, though Anne sat lost in her own thoughts. Every once in a while, words would come through—herbs, Main Street, mama, witch—wait, what? Before she could ask Kandi to repeat herself, they turned onto Main Street.

  This delightful avenue with its local shops had sold Anne on living here. When she had seen the town’s name—Carolan Springs—in the realtor ad, it had felt like a sign. Nobody called her by her full name, Carole Anne, but it still felt like two halves coming together to make a whole.