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  “On the day that Mr. Nettle died, all that was written on the mayor’s calendar was a large H and a note that said ‘I have to know’,” I blurted out.

  Tucker looked from one of us to the other and scratched his whiskered chin. “And how do you know this?”

  “We saw it,” Poppy cut in. “Well, she saw it,” she added, nodding in my direction.

  “You saw the mayor’s calendar? Ladies, I was in his office this afternoon and that calendar on his desk is completely blank.”

  “He has another, smaller one in the top drawer of his desk,” I explained and Poppy kicked me under the table.

  “I don’t even want to know how you know this, okay? A letter on a calendar with a cryptic note is not enough to blow this case wide open. That H could stand for holiday or health department or...”

  “Helen,” I reminded him.

  “Okay, so he had a meeting with Helen who evidently has some information for him. How does that involve Mr. Nettle?” Tucker asked, crossing his big arms over his chest.

  “I don’t know,” I confessed. “But it has to. I mean, there was a note in his pocket with her name on it.”

  “Starla, one of the first things you learn when you become a detective is not to force the clues to fit the crime,” Tucker said. “You investigate and follow the clues, and every one I’ve turned up so far leads straight to Adam and, in turn, Robert Taylor.”

  “They didn’t do it,” I said, shaking my head.

  “So, you’re thinking Mayor Gillespie?”

  I shook my head. “No. The man Poppy and I passed that morning in the park.”

  “The man you didn’t recognize?” Tucker asked. “The man who was not carrying a weapon like the one used to kill Mr. Nettle? The man who probably wouldn’t have known Mr. Nettle unless his son had given him a picture?”

  “A hit man?” Poppy gasped.

  “How would Adam know that Mr. Nettle would be in the park in the middle of a snow storm alone?” I demanded to know.

  Tucker shrugged. “He simply watched and followed Mr. Nettle until he caught him alone. Then he took the old man down with one clean, perfectly placed shot and is probably somewhere on a beach right now sipping margaritas.”

  “With Adam’s money?”

  Tucker nodded. “I haven’t nailed that down quite yet but I did discover something interesting.”

  “What?” Poppy asked.

  “Adam wasn’t at his office the day his father was killed,” Tucker said. “In fact, no one that I’ve talked to knows exactly where he was. He told his wife one thing, his secretary another, his colleagues something else.”

  “Maybe he has a girlfriend. That doesn’t make him a murderer,” I argued.

  “Nor does a note on a calendar,” Tucker reminded me, put both hands on my small table and stood up. “Now, it’s late. I have to get some sleep and try to wrap this thing up as soon as I can.”

  “Hey, by the way, still going to the Winter Festival with me?” Tucker asked as I followed him down the narrow steps to let him out the back door.

  When I didn’t answer right away, he stopped and I ran right into him.

  “Sorry. I forgot you and Joe...”

  I shook my head and quickly untangled myself. “No, I don’t have any other plans. I’ll meet you there.”

  “Speaking of Joe. He’s actually a pretty good guy, even if he is a northerner,” Tucker said when we reached the bottom of the stairs. “He’s really helped me dig up some good information with his reporter skills and contacts.”

  “Good,” I said. Perhaps that was why I hadn’t seen much of him for the past few days - he’d been busy with Tucker.

  Even though I hadn’t told him yes, I’d sort of been looking forward to that dinner date as soon as the storm let up. Now I’d never get the chance. At least I wouldn’t have to worry about matching underwear.

  When I came back upstairs, carefully locking the door behind me, Poppy was on the phone with Tom. Her tone was soft and loving and every once in a while she would get quiet, her cheeks turning red.

  I had to admit it, I was a little envious of my best friend.

  Poppy went right to sleep after her phone call. I tossed and turned and slept fitfully, my dreams all mixed up and making no sense at all.

  The next morning when Poppy came downstairs to the diner, I had already been up for hours, perfecting my new chocolate mint cupcake recipe. She took one look at the dozens of cupcakes lined up on the cooling rack on the prep table, poured coffee for herself and said, “You’re finally going to start practicing. You have two days.”

  “The recipe is good,” I said, ignoring her statement.

  “They just look like chocolate cupcakes,” Poppy said with a shrug. Still, she snatched one off of the corner, tore it open and gasped in surprise.

  I grinned. “Moist, delicious, chocolate cupcakes.”

  “With something, umm, fantastic in the middle,” she added, licking her lips. “How did you do that?”

  I held up a fat straw, the kind we use with milkshakes. “I poke this down in the middle, turn it a little bit and then pull it out, taking a plug of chocolate cupcake out with it.”

  I demonstrated while I explained.

  “Then I use this piping bag. I found a whole box of them here in the kitchen along with this one round tip, so it’ll have to do. I fill the cupcake with the same frosting that will go on top. Then I put the plug back in and, voila, a surprise inside.”

  “They gotta look good, though,” Poppy warned me, reaching for another cupcake.

  “I’m working on that,” I promised.

  Gladys arrived right after that and she and Poppy began getting ready for the breakfast rush. Soon, the kitchen was filled with the smell of baking biscuits, frying bacon and coffee. My stomach rumbled while I crushed small candy canes with a rolling pin.

  Tom Brown was our first customer of the day. He and Poppy slipped off into our office to have a private moment, and by the time they returned we were starting to get busy.

  Mayor Gillespie was his usual self in his usual spot ordering his usual breakfast. Joe and Tucker arrived at almost the same time, laughing about something like they were old friends.

  “Doll-face,” Joe said, sliding onto a stool beside the mayor. He caught my hand, kissed the palm and winked.

  “What a flirt,” I moaned, pulling my hand free and trying to not let Tucker see me blush.

  “Now, why wouldn’t I flirt with the prettiest girl in town?” he demanded to know. “I have to do something to compete with Big Ashe here.”

  Joe nodded at Tucker who looked just as surprised at the nickname as I did.

  After that, the diner was really busy. Roads were clearing somewhat and school was open. At one point, I noticed that Adam and Robert Taylor had entered the diner together and were having breakfast. That’s when I checked to see if anyone else had noticed and saw that Joe and the mayor had left. Tucker was sipping the last of his coffee.

  “Big Ashe,” I teased.

  He shrugged.

  “Hey, I was just teasing,” I said, noting that he didn’t look happy.

  “The coroner is releasing Mr. Nettle’s body today,” Tucker said quietly and glanced over his shoulder at Adam and his breakfast companion. “I’ve stalled him long enough. I need to nail Adam for this before he goes back to Atlanta.”

  “Do you think he and Robert are in this together?” I asked. Maybe Tucker was right. Maybe it was the money angle. This really was the only link between Helen and Mr. Nettle that I could think of.

  “I don’t know but I’ve got Joe working on some background for Turner. He just bought his wife a nice new car and you saw where they live. Seems like a pretty good life for an insurance salesman,” Tucker said.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Despite working on my cupcake presentation until after midnight, I awoke before dawn on the day of the Winter Festival. We’d taste tested the cupcakes out on customers the day before and they were a hit. Pop
py and Gladys gave it their stamp of approval and I felt like I was ready. Of course, I had no idea what the Lord sisters and Tiffany had up their sleeves but, in reality, this was to raise money for the Community Trust. If I added a ribbon to my collection so much the better.

  Who was I kidding? I wanted that win, but I’d been so distracted by the investigation into Mr. Nettle’s murder, I hadn’t really even tried. I didn’t deserve a win.

  Speaking of that investigation and in spite of all the leads, Tucker hadn’t been able to pin anything solid on Adam or Robert Turner or anyone else for that matter. Tucker and Joe had scoured bank records, phone records and everything else, coming up with nothing. I wasn’t surprised. Adam left the day after his father’s body was released. Of course, I hadn’t come up with any better solution myself so maybe we would never find out who killed Mr. Nettle.

  We were always busy on Saturday mornings and this one was no exception. Lots of strangers were in town for the festival as well as people who’d lived here, moved away and just couldn’t resist coming back for the celebration. Evidently, they couldn’t resist coming to the diner for breakfast either.

  I was glad I’d called in extra help for the morning and they showed up right on time. Poppy and Tom went to the armory building downtown ahead of time to set up our booth and enter my cupcakes into the competition. The arrangement looked pretty, but was it good enough?

  Finally, just after lunch, the diner grew quiet. I stepped out onto the sidewalk and squinted against the glorious sun. It felt like I hadn’t seen it for weeks and the sky was so blue it hurt my eyes to look at it. I smiled, thinking the mounds of snow would soon melt. Was this the end of winter? No, it was still cold but hopefully we’d get a teasing glimpse of spring before the next storm hit.

  Just as I was locking up, Tucker ambled down the street toward me. He was wearing jeans and a long coat over his flannel shirt. It occurred to me that that was the same kind of coat the man we saw in the park that day had been wearing.

  “You have one of those dusters, too?” I asked.

  “Yes, ma’am,” he said and grinned.

  I forgot all about coats.

  “Were you trying to ditch me?” he asked.

  I laughed and looped my arm in his. “Nope. You’re out of uniform?”

  “Taking the day off,” he said and there was that sexy grin again.

  God, his eyes were as blue as the sky.

  We took our time walking toward the armory. He paid for our tickets and we entered the huge space. I checked in with Poppy and saw that she had Gladys and Barbara Ellen there with her. They didn’t need my help.

  “I’ll come back around in a bit so you and Tom can enjoy the fun,” I promised.

  Tucker and I admired the needlework, the quilts and the pottery. A new business in town gave lessons and it looked like several local people were getting pretty good at using the potter’s wheel. I didn’t dare check out the cupcakes entered by others, knowing my heart would be broken if I did.

  “Starla.”

  I turned to see the round Helen Means waddling toward me.

  “Hello, dear,” she said hugging me warmly. “Hello, Tucker.” She hugged him as well.

  “How are you?” I asked.

  “Oh, I’m fine. Happy to get out of the house, now that the storm has passed.”

  Tucker and I agreed. It seemed everyone was in a festive mood now that the sun had reappeared.

  “Did you enter the cupcake contest?” she asked.

  “Yes, ma’am,” I told her.

  “I did, too,” she whispered, and then giggled like a school girl.

  “Well, good. I hope you win,” I said.

  “Oh, I doubt that but it was fun practicing my decorating skills,” she said.

  Every once in a while I noted Joe, taking pictures, making notes. Our little newspaper really was a one man show and it looked like he was handling it well. When he saw me, he waved and smiled and went right back to work.

  Soon, Mayor Gillespie announced that the exploding snowman contest was beginning and everyone moved toward the back doors of the armory to see the spectacle. Five snowmen, complete with top hats, carrot noses and scarves were lined up against the fence farthest away from the building. In front of each was the name of the organization or family who built that particular snowman. Tom Brown’s company was represented, Brown Construction. Even the seniors at the local high school had one.

  The snowmen were separated from the crowd by yellow crime scene tape and we all stood breathless, waiting for Mayor Gillespie to blow the whistle. One of the local volunteer firemen did something and the first one exploded, spectacularly shooting the silk top hat, scarf and other debris high into the air. The crowed oohed and ahed, kids squealed and Tucker put his arm around my shoulders.

  Unfortunately, before anything else could happen, the second snowman in line blew up and that set off the rest of them in unison. Over the explosions, Mayor Gillespie warned everyone to stay back. The crowd yelled and clapped, Tucker and I right along with everyone else, until all was quiet. After the fire department made sure it was all over and safe, they decided that every snowman was a winner and prizes were awarded.

  After that, the local elementary school had their snowball contest to see who could roll the biggest snowball the fastest. And then there was the snow thrower race, one person from each of the schools racing against each other. To everyone’s surprise, the high school principal, Mrs. Duffle, crossed the finish line first.

  “It’s a good thing we had plenty of snow this year,” I told Tucker when that was over and we went back inside the warmth of the armory.

  He bought both of us hot cocoa and handed me one. His face was pink from the cold. “You got that right. Those kids had a ball, didn’t they?”

  I was just getting ready to agree when over the PA system, Mayor Gillespie invited everyone to come over for the final decision for the winner of the Winter Festival Cupcake Decorating Contest.

  “Come on,” Poppy urged from close by. “They are beautiful.”

  Tucker and Tom followed as we made our way to where five plates of cupcakes were set out on a table. The Mayor and Joe were on the other side of the table and I gasped in surprise.

  “I had no idea he was one of the judges,” I whispered to Poppy.

  “Me either,” she giggled, clapping her hands.

  Eva and Anna Lord stood close by, along with Tiffany, their eyes shooting daggers at me. I couldn’t tell which one was theirs but if it was the one closest to where they stood, they had outdone themselves with what looked like tiny polar bears sitting atop cupcakes. My cupcake arrangement - which looked like a snow man, complete with red peppermint candies for buttons, a scarf sprinkled with peppermints and a matching top hat - was on the far end.

  The entry in the center was beautiful. It looked like a bouquet of mums, in glorious spring colors.

  “Now, I know that this contest is to celebrate the artistic skills of the ladies in our community but we had to add a second category because, well, they were just so darned good,” Mayor Gillespie announced.

  Everyone laughed nervously.

  “So, Joe Wheeler, our illustrious and hardworking newspaper man, has agreed to taste test these after we announce the winner of the decorating category.”

  The two men put their heads together for a moment and then Joe slowly walked from one table to the other. He paused at each display, pretending to examine them closely but it was obvious he had already made a decision. What a showman!

  He returned to the plate in the center, lifted it and held it over his head. Poppy squeezed my hand and I looked at the Lord sisters and Tiffany. They were glaring at me angrily. I shrugged and held up both hands in surrender.

  “The winner this year is Ms. Helen Means,” Mayor Gillespie announced after looking to see who has created the beautiful display.

  Everything after that was an anti-climax. I found Helen in the crowd, surrounded by her friends.

  �
��Congratulations!” I said, giving her a warm hug.

  “Thank you,” Helen said, blushing.

  “Those are gorgeous. How did you make them?” I asked, picking up one carefully and holding it up to study it better.

  “I cut mini marshmallows on the diagonal and dipped the sticky side in colored sugar to make dozens of pink, yellow, purple, blue, and orange petals,” she squealed.

  “Genius. I would never have thought of that,” I said.

  “What’s wrong with them?” Tucker asked, nodding toward the mayor who was trapped between Eva Lord and Tiffany Samples.

  “They’re saying I cheated because I used something other than icing for my decorations,” Helen explained.

  “That’s not cheating,” I gasped. “They’re still edible.”

  She shrugged. “It doesn’t matter whatever he decides is fine with me.”

  “It’s obvious I’m not the best in the decorating department,” I said, pointing at my forlorn cupcake snowman with part of his hat missing.

  We all laughed.

  Just then I saw Joe walking toward us. He grinned, hugged Helen Means and then shook hands with Tucker and Tom.

  “Do you mind if I steal Doll-face from you for just a minute?” he asked.

  “Go right ahead,” Tucker said. “We’ll wait here.”

  My heart raced as he led me away. Was he finally going to set our dinner date? God, I hope he gave me time to go shopping. And I hoped it wasn’t some place too fancy.

  “What’s going on?” I asked, when we found a quiet corner to talk.

  “I just wanted you to be the first to know that I’m moving back home,” he said quietly.

  “Home?”

  “New York. Ithaca.”

  My mouth dropped open. “But the newspaper and...” I wanted to add our dinner date and whatever might have happened after that but kept quiet. “...stuff.”

  “All this excitement over Mr. Nettle’s murder and working with Tucker made me realize how much I missed investigative reporting. There’s not likely to be something like this happen here in town for another ten years. Back in New York...”