Dough Knot Murder Read online

  It was a well known Amish restaurant. “You’ll love it there. Make sure you get a bowl of their apple crisp!”

  At that moment, there was a knock on the front door. The door opened, and Oscar walked through. “Everything’s settled at my house, so I came over to see how it’s going.”

  Sarah scooted past him with a wave goodbye.

  Cecelia fanned her face as she answered, “The police just left, and I have two new guests signing in. It just doesn’t end around here.”

  “Have you had a chance to check on Steve yet?”

  She shook her head. “You think I should? Sarah said he wanted some quiet time.”

  He rubbed his bristly chin and nodded. “Maybe a quick check in. You mind if I go with you?”

  She nodded. After confirming that Brenda was still filling out forms, Cecelia beckoned Oscar to follow her. they walked down the hall to where there was a bedroom at the end, the only one she rented on the bottom floor.

  Cecelia let Oscar set the pace. She knew how his joints bothered him, and with the temperature drop, it was a bear for him. In truth, she needed a moment to regroup her thoughts herself.

  Once outside the door, Cecelia glanced at Oscar for reassurance. He nodded his head with a grim smile. She lightly tapped on the door while Oscar adjusted a picture frame sitting on the hall’s bookshelf. Cecelia saw him frown when he spotted a pen poking out behind the frame.

  “Interesting,” he mumbled.

  From inside the room there came a feeble, “Come in.”

  She shot Oscar an anxious look, eyebrows puckered together, and then twisted the doorknob. “Steve? Hello. It’s Cecelia and Oscar.”

  Steve lay in bed, the covers pulled up his chest. He opened red-rimmed eyes.

  “Oh, Steve, I’m so terribly sorry.” Cecelia rushed to the side of the bed, while Oscar remained inside the door.

  Steve mumbled a stream of unintelligible grief-filled words. Cecelia sympathetically patted his arm and murmured words of comfort. She searched for tissues and handed him a few. Finally, he calmed to the point where his words made sense.

  “I’m not sure how long I can stay here. I’ve contacted a temp agency to hire someone to come help me,” Steve stammered.

  “Shh, you stay as long as you’d like.” Cecelia straightened his sheet. “I’m going to go make you some soup. Do you need any help now?” She glanced toward the attached bathroom. “I’ll get Frank in here.”

  “No, thank you. I can get in and out of bed, and into the bathroom by myself as long as the wheelchair stays in reach.”

  “Okay, but you’ll call me if you need anything?”

  “I promise. Thank you, Cecelia,” Steve smiled weakly.

  With a final pat on his arm, Cecelia moved the glass of water closer. She found his phone and placed it on the side table, while Oscar stooped with a groan to pick up a dropped prescription bottle. He glanced at it and placed it on the dresser. Together, they headed out.

  As they shut the door, Oscar whispered. “Did you notice that?”

  “Notice what?”

  “His room, the scent in it.”

  “Scent?”

  “Yeah, a very strong scent of aftershave.”

  She paused, her thin eyebrows raising. “No, I don’t think I did. I was much too worried about how he was doing. The poor thing. I’m going to make him that soup. And maybe some chamomile tea. That helps with everything.”

  The front door opened then and the two business men came in, talking in low whispers.

  “Wonder what they’re saying?” Oscar muttered to her.

  “The only thing on my mind right at this moment is the condition of my kitchen.” Cecelia walked into the room and spun around, taking inventory.

  “How bad is it?” Oscar asked.

  “With all the noise I heard, I expected more of a mess. I suspect that Frank and Jefferson made sure they were respectful.”

  Brenda poked her head into the kitchen. She delivered the forms, and mentioned they were heading upstairs to their room.

  Cecelia gave her a wave. “Relax and make yourself at home. Dinner will be at five.”

  As the guest left, Cecelia glanced at the clock. She jumped. “Oscar, where has the time flown to? I’m late!” She spun around the counter. “Let’s see, here. I made some rolls this morning. If you could just bring them out to the table, dear, that would be lovely.” She bustled over to start a tea kettle and then pulled out cutlets to prepare dinner.

  Oscar meandered over to the bread box and pulled out a basket covered with a red-and-white checkered napkin. Underneath were layers of fluffy buttermilk biscuits. He carried the basket into the dining room. From here he had a clear view of the crackling fireplace in the living room, part of the couch and one wingback chair.

  Roy and Troy were standing to the side of the couch. Roy, the taller one, jabbed his index finger into the other man’s chest. “We leave tomorrow. You just need to keep it together until morning.”

  As if sensing Oscar watching, Roy looked over. He immediately stepped away from Troy and raised his hand in greeting. “Nice to see you, Oscar. Dinner ready?”

  Oscar lifted the basket in his hand. “If you hurry. I might demolish them all since I’m pretty hungry tonight.”

  “Oh, we’ll give you a run for your money,” said Roy, chuckling. “I just need to get something from the room, but we’ll be right there.”

  Oscar watched them go upstairs with a bemused expression on his face. He remembered the tattoo on Roy’s arm. “I’ve got my eye on you,” he muttered under his breath. Then he lifted the napkin to peek at the biscuits. “Cecelia! Where’s the honey!”

  Chapter 4

  Dinner was a quiet affair with somber faces as people tried to process the day’s events. Uncertainty was on everyone’s face, written in wrinkles on their foreheads or drawn mouths. There was occasional flinching if a fork scraped too loudly against a plate, along with an apologetic look. Most everyone cleaned their plates, eating every bite in an effort to avoid conversation.

  Poor Steve was still in his room resting. Cecelia had brought him the promised soup, but the last she’d checked, it had remained untouched.

  After the meal was over, the stuffed guests slowly pushed themselves away from a messy table and meandered like bears nearing hibernation into the living room. The food had mellowed the mood, and the fire in the stone fireplace crackled welcomingly.

  Oscar noticed that more than one guest gave the card table a sharp look as they sank into the easy chairs and plump couches scattered about the room. He assumed they were all thinking about the fight that had happened there the night before.

  Cecelia offered everyone spiked eggnog. After a glass or two, the group seemed to ignore the nervous energy that permeated the house like static electricity, and settled into relaxed conversations filled with small talk.

  Oscar had waved off the eggnog and instead nursed a cup of coffee in his favorite easy chair. He’d claimed the chair a while back and somehow every guest that had rotated through the doors seemed to subconsciously know not to use it.

  He settled back in the worn cushions now and sighed contentedly. It was an amazing chair, with the cushions already melding into his shape. He leaned over his coffee and blew, causing his shoulders to bow forward like two bird wings, and then took a slurpy sip. After he settled back, he barely moved again and nearly blended into his surroundings. In fact, after a few minutes, no one cast him another look.

  The new guests, Brenda and Bobby, sat down at the card table, not realizing how the others were avoiding it.

  “Anyone want to play?” Bobby asked the group.

  Sarah glanced around the room, before shrugging. “Sure.” She sat down across from him, and Brenda slid the deck of cards over for her to shuffle.

  The two business men glanced at each other. “Maybe another time,” Troy said. He then called out to Cecelia, who was pottering around with a tray of Christmas cookies. “That was a great dinner. And I got
the trash can out to the road.”

  “Thank you for doing that. I’m glad you enjoyed it. Do you both have meetings tomorrow?”

  “Not sure. Maybe one more day. I’ll know more in the morning.”

  “Well it would be nice if you can squeeze some sight-seeing in to your trip,” Cecelia added before carrying the plates into the kitchen.

  Roy stood up and stretched. “Good advice. In fact, we’re going to head out right now for a bit. Find out if this town has any nightlife.” He glanced at Troy. “You ready?”

  “Have fun,” Sarah said, making the cards bridge in her hands.

  Oscar observed the men leave, wondering where they really planned to go.

  “So, how are you doing?” Brenda asked Sarah, her voice low and full of sympathy.

  “I just can’t believe he’s gone,” Sarah said shuffling through the cards.

  “This really affected you, then.”

  Sarah’s cheeks filled with a hot flush. “Yeah, he was a nice guy.”

  Brenda said nothing, but watched Sarah.

  Sarah caught the look and sighed. “This is silly, but I thought he might be interested in me. I was sort of expecting him to ask me out.”

  “Aww,” Brenda tipped her head sympathetically.

  “Although, I never would have said yes.” Sarah paused, her eyes introspective as she shuffled again and again. She murmured. “Because he wasn’t always so nice to his father. I wonder how’s Steve doing, anyway?” Her gaze swept down the hall toward the bedroom.

  Cecelia came in with a plate of cookies. “I caught the last thing you said. The poor man’s asleep now.”

  “I wonder how he’s going to deal with all of this? Will they be sending Mike’s body someplace to bury?” asked Brenda.

  Cecelia shook her head, wondering how Brenda knew his name. Did someone tell her? “I have no idea. I just hope there’s someone on the other end to help him.”

  “You think he needs help to take care of himself?” Brenda raised her brows.

  “He’s still learning to work his wheelchair,” answered Cecelia.

  Sarah passed out the cards. “Didn’t they just win a huge insurance settlement? I think they have money. He can afford to hire someone to help him. And I bet this new person will be nicer than Mike.”

  Cecelia added more wood to the fire and then settled into her wingback chair opposite Oscar. “The poor man. My mother always said you should never have to bury your children. I’m surprised he’s holding up as well as he is.”

  “Do you know how they got their money?” Brenda asked.

  “Shh,” Cecelia held a finger up to her lips and glanced anxiously down the hallway.

  “Sorry. Earlier today, I heard Troy talking about it. I mean overheard.” Brenda shot a guilty look at Bobby.

  “And where did you hear them?” Bobby asked, frowning.

  “They were in their room.”

  “You eavesdropped outside their room?” Bobby rolled his eyes and distanced himself from her slightly in the chair.

  Sarah chimed in. “She probably couldn’t help it. They’re so loud, I’ve heard stuff myself. Honestly, I don’t trust those two guys. That isn’t the first weird thing I’ve heard them say.” She placed a card on the pile and then leaned forward to whisper to the group. “You don’t suppose they are grifters? We don’t really know what business they’re doing. They leave all day for meetings but where are they really going? Gainesville isn’t exactly a metropolis.”

  Oscar glanced up from his crossword puzzle.

  “Well, we saw them outside the bar today when we arrived into town. I recognized them later at the house. From what I saw, they seemed to be having a good time,” Brenda said.

  Oscar noted that Bobby tapped Brenda’s foot under the table. Brenda blushed and stared down at her cards.

  “Last night was awful. I wonder how Steve feels about the horrid fight now?” Cecelia added.

  “That was one of the most awkward experiences I’d ever had.” Sarah agreed. “And then the pacing in the room, back and forth pacing with those loud shoes.”

  “You could hear them from upstairs?” Cecelia asked, surprised.

  “Yeah, sorry. It came up through the heat vent. I swear it sounded like Mike was roller skating, he was stomping so much. And they were fighting. I couldn’t hear what they were saying but their tones were sharp and mean.”

  “Stomping like he was wearing hard-soled shoes?” Oscar asked.

  “Yes, exactly like that. Business shoes. Did you hear it?”

  Cecelia shook her head. “I didn’t hear anything.”

  “Well, it was probably nothing, but I swear I heard Mike call his dad by his first name, among other nasty things. He was so mad.”

  “That sounds terrible,” said Brenda, laying out her cards. She won that hand, and the other players groaned.

  “Ready for another game?” Sarah gathered the cards.

  “Not me. I’ve got an early morning tomorrow,” Bobby said. “You coming, Brenda?”

  She glanced at him wide-eyed. Oscar thought he detected a note of surprise. Still, she quickly recovered, “Yes, definitely been a long day.”

  Sarah glanced at her watch. “You’re right, I should actually be getting to bed myself.”

  For all of the guests’ declarations that they were tired, it was with a rather weird uneasiness that everyone slowly rose from the table. Handshakes were exchanged, along with good nights. Slowly the living room emptied.

  Finally, Cecelia and Oscar were alone. She began gathering the glasses. “Well, what do you think of that?”

  “Interesting. Very interesting.”

  She shot him a sharp look. “What exactly does that mean?”

  “Right now, I have lots of questions with very few answers.” He eased himself up, groaning. After stacking several plates, Oscar followed Cecelia into the kitchen. She filled up the sink while he reached into a drawer and grabbed a dish towel to help dry the plates. They moved like a well-oiled machine. Afterward, Cecelia set about to making dough for the morning.

  “You’re still being very quiet,” Cecilia noted.

  Oscar gave her a kiss before grabbing his hat. “The brain is sometimes a slow machine.”

  “I swear I have no idea what goes on in that old FBI head of yours. Well, goodnight Mr. O’Neil. And by the way,” she pointed to the windowsill, now heavily lined with several inches of snow. “I like my lasagna with gruyère and ricotta.”

  He stared out the window before yanking his hat firmly over his balding dome. At the door he turned back. “It will be the cheesiest lasagna you’ve ever had, madam.”

  “I’m a sucker for cheesy.” She grinned.

  He couldn’t think of a sufficiently smart comeback and instead hurried out the door to shake his fist at the still falling snow.

  Chapter 5

  Oscar stomped back through the snow to his house as a spring of anxiety twisted in his gut regarding Peanut. She’d only been alone for a couple of hours. Still, it had been a rough day, and the dog might have picked up on the stress. He climbed up the porch steps and tried to quickly unlock the door, his fingers feeling stiff and cold.

  The door swung open, revealing a dark interior. He’d forgotten to leave the light on. There was also no welcoming patter of nails racing along the hardwood. No happy bark.

  Oscar hurried into the house, slamming the door behind him. He called out, “Bear!” Concern filled him when she didn’t answer, more than he’d ever admit, and he at last resorted to calling her Peanut.

  Still no answer.

  Feeling slightly breathless he flipped on the kitchen light, and after a quick peek around, stumbled down the hall and into his bedroom. There he found her fast asleep on the bed, curled in a fat comma right in the center of his pillow.

  “Dag-nabbit dog, you scared me,” he whispered, easing himself down next to her. He stroked her head which awakened her. Then he had to endure a few minutes of doggy kisses.

  “Co
me on, Bear. Let’s go for our evening digestive walk.” With the snow, he didn’t want to chance losing her, so he buckled a leash to her collar— one that still jingled, he noted grumpily.

  This was the time of the day he always enjoyed the most, with the shush and darkness wrapping like a flannel robe around him. He enjoyed standing outside, his neck and back creaking with effort as he stared up at the stars. It was a quiet moment to mentally digest all the events that had happened that day. And he had some stuff that needed digesting.

  He wandered into his back yard with Peanut tugging on the leash. The dog loved the snow and snuffled through it.

  “What are you sniffing at, Bear? Isn’t that cold?” he asked, tucking his other hand into his pocket.

  The dog looked at him with a huge scoop of snow resting on the end of her black nose. Her tongue lapped out, almost like she was laughing, before hurrying to root through the snow again.

  She was a good dog though and seemed to know not to tug on her leash too firmly and jar her owner. She was content to stay near his feet.

  Oscar gazed up at the sky. The snowfall had finally stopped. Maybe his angry fist shake had made a difference after all. The clouds were parting now and stars could be seen, extra bright and sharp diamonds in the cold air.

  He glanced over at Cecelia’s and noticed that Troy’s and Roy’s room had the light on and the window cracked open. Had the businessmen already returned? Awfully early for a night on the town. Curious, he cut through the hedge and wandered around the side to the back of Cecelia’s house. Peanut followed happily, sniffing this way and that.

  Oscar stopped under a giant maple tree that grew next to the house. Directly above him was Roy and Troy’s window. There was a nice solid bench there which he sank down to gratefully. It was a good spot to rest and reflect. It was also a good spot to eavesdrop.

  Above him, the two men were in an argument.

  “How long are we stuck here then?” said one that sounded like Troy.

  “Until the boss tells us we’re done.”