Hawgs, Dogs, and Murder (Hawg Heaven Cozy Culinary Mysteries Book 4) Page 3

“Heck if I know. It ain’t like I took Chemistry in school. They didn’t require that nonsense when I was in school.”

  “So you didn’t have any idea what was in the boxes that you loaded every day?”

  “Didn’t care. Heavy stuff, that’s what was in them boxes. That’s all I needed to know. I kept my mouth shut and did my job and they laid me off after seventeen years. That’s the thanks I get for busting my back my whole adult life,” Ronnie growled.

  “How was your marriage, Mr. Delario?”

  “None of your business for one thing. What the heck kinda question is that after my wife just died?” he demanded.

  “I know it’s probably a painful subject right now, but if we can gain any clues from her behavior or habits or anything, it may help us figure out what happened,” Tyler explained patiently.

  “She acted the same as she always did. Nagging at me in the morning before she went to work, more nagging when she got home. Behaved herself and acted nice when we watched the TV at night, then went to bed and started all over again. Ain’t that how everybody’s marriage goes?”

  “So, did the two of you have any disagreements in the days prior to her death?”

  “Every dang day. I can’t get a job to save my dang my life, and that woman never stopped reminding me that she was bringin’ in all the money. I was still the man in this house though, and I never let her forget it.”

  Tyler took a breath and worded his next question carefully.

  “And how did you remind her of that?” he asked.

  “By not taking her guff, that’s how.”

  “I see. Did your wife have a life insurance policy?”

  “Heck if I know. I didn’t handle any of that household stuff, that was her job.”

  “I see. How do you feel about your wife’s death Mr. Delario?”

  The raggedy man in front of him thought for a moment.

  “I gotta cook my own supper now,” he nodded thoughtfully.

  **

  Rossalyn’s mouth was set in a frustrated line as she drove back toward home with Barney gazing contentedly out the window, sitting up tall and proud in the passenger seat. She’d taken him to the shelter after Ryan left for school, after giving the hound a poignant farewell hug, only to find that the overflowing shelter could take the animal in, but if they did, his chances of survival weren’t good. She had looked into those sad brown eyes and teared up. There was no way she was leaving Barney to his doom, so she loaded him back into the SUV and was bringing him home. Every kid needed a dog, right?

  Passing the accounting office on her way back from the shelter, Rossie saw that the little building was still surrounded by police tape, and wondered if there had been any progress made in finding out what exactly had happened to Deedee Delario. Rossalyn was inclined to think that it had been some sort of weird accident, dismissing Ruth’s concerns as being a bit farfetched. Who would want to kill an accountant? She was a little bit worried about Ruth, who seemed a bit paranoid, but supposed that stress was probably sending all sorts of thoughts through the traumatized woman’s mind.

  Barney put his nose to the window, and Rossie lowered it a bit for him, letting the big dog get a breath of fresh air. His tail thumped gratefully on the seat and he drank in the cool morning breeze, looking as though he didn’t have a care in the world. She planned to drop the hound off at home, freshen his food and water, then head to Hawg Heaven, feeling guilty about having been so late the day before. Her head wasn’t throbbing today, which was a relief, but the split on her forehead was still sore and needed to be hidden by her hair. Well, one thing was certain, life was never dull.

  Rossie pulled into her driveway, her heart sinking when a police car pulled in behind her. Maybe the shelter had heard from Barney’s owner and they were coming to reclaim the hound. Putting the SUV into Park and tossing her keys in her purse, she snapped Barney’s leash on and let him out of the driver’s side, dismayed when she saw that the police officer who pulled up was none other than Morgan Tyler. He’d been the one who had swayed her into thinking that Tom Hundman was a murderer, and she had been steadfast in her avoidance of him ever since the real murderer had been caught, despite the fact that Morgan had apologized for jumping to conclusions.

  CHAPTER SIX

  *

  The handsome lawman approached Rossie with a hesitant smile.

  “Hi Rossalyn. Nice dog,” he stretched the back of his hand toward Barney for a sniff, and the hound licked it, bringing a smile to Morgan’s face.

  “Thanks. Ryan picked up a stray and the shelter is full, so I guess we have a new family member,” she smiled at the dog, but her smile disappeared when she turned her gaze back to the cop. “What brings you out here?” she unconsciously reached down to scratch between Barney’s ears when the hound leaned his head against her leg.

  “Do you have a few minutes to talk? It’s important,” he replied, glancing toward the house.

  Rossie held in the frustrated sigh that rose up within her and glanced at her watch.

  “I’m thinking half an hour, tops,” Morgan added, noting her reaction.

  “Sure, I guess. We can sit out on the back patio and let Barney run around the yard for a bit.”

  She opened the gate and unsnapped the dog from his leash. He immediately trotted up the stairs and onto the porch, found a patch of sunlight and curled up for a nap.

  “That’s the hound dog version of running around,” Morgan grinned, and even Rossie had to smile as Barney sighed contentedly and settled his head on his paws.

  “I think he’s going to like it here,” she replied, easing into one of the white Adirondack chairs on the porch and indicating that he should occupy the other. “So, what’s up?” she got straight to business. She was treating him coolly and his rueful gaze indicated that he knew it, but he didn’t mention it.

  “Jimmy Beason is one of your regulars over at Hawg Heaven, and he mentioned to me that Ruth Venkman was with you at the café after Deedee Delario died. He said it looked like you were having a pretty intense conversation, but he didn’t eavesdrop,” Morgan assured her.

  “Wow, this is such a small town,” Rossie muttered. “Yes, Ruth came by to talk. Is there something wrong with that?”

  “No, not at all. I’m just hoping that you might be willing to share what that conversation was about.”

  “Why?” her eyes narrowed.

  “To be honest, when I interviewed the rest of the office staff at the accounting firm, they were all distraught, but with Ruth, there was something else. Something seemed…off, somehow.”

  Rossalyn sighed and nodded. “I have to admit, I picked up on that too, but the story that she shared with me seemed so improbable that I just dismissed it.”

  “Do you feel comfortable sharing it?” Morgan prodded gently.

  “No, not really, it makes me actually feel like I’m ratting out a very sweet lady, but if it might be helpful, I’ll tell you what she had to say.”

  When Rossie finished, with Morgan taking notes all the while, he looked at her gravely.

  “I really appreciate this Rossalyn. We really need to figure out what’s going on here, and this lead may help more than you know.”

  “I hope so. If there’s someone out there poisoning people, they need to be caught,” she shrugged.

  “If Ruth says anything else, you’ll let me know?” he asked, standing.

  “Of course,” Rossie rose too and stood at the porch rail when he walked down the steps. “Good luck.”

  Officer Morgan Tyler turned and paused at the bottom of the steps, looking as though he was deciding what to say.

  “It was good seeing you again, Rossalyn. I hope the hound dog works out for you and Ryan,” his smile was warm.

  “Thanks,” she replied, a flush rising in her cheeks. She turned and disappeared into the house, leaving the policeman standing in the yard.

  **

  Marvin Venkman worked the night shift, so he was home watching TV when Officer Mo
rgan Tyler rang the doorbell.

  “Ruthie isn’t here,” he said when he saw the uniformed policeman. “She’s out shopping in the city and probably won’t be back until late.”

  “That’s okay, Mr. Venkman, I was hoping to talk with you for a few minutes, may I come in?”

  “Sure, I was just watching some TV, lemme turn it down a touch,” he grabbed the remote and muted the sound. “What’s on your mind?”

  “It seems that your wife thinks that someone might have been trying to poison her, and accidentally poisoned her coworker by mistake. Do you have any idea why she might think that?”

  Marvin thought for a moment, then nodded sadly. “Yep, I’m afraid I do know why she thinks that, Officer, and I’m just hoping that she’s wrong. Lemme go get something. I think you’ll want to see it,” he said, rising from the couch and heading down the hall toward the back of the house.

  “Mr. Venkman,” Morgan’s tone stopped the man in his tracks. “I’d feel much more comfortable if I went with you,” he insisted quietly, his hand at the strap covering his weapon.

  Marvin’s eyes widened and he put up his hands indicating his compliance. “Hey, it’s cool. I’m just going to get my lockbox out of the closet. You can follow me in there, just don’t tell my wife, because the bedroom is a mess,” he smiled, his eyes on the holster at Morgan’s hip. “Don’t get nervous, man. I’m on your side.”

  “What’s in the lockbox?” Morgan inclined his head, letting Marvin know that it was okay to proceed.

  “Some letters that might have something to do with all of this.”

  “Letters from whom?”

  “That’s kind of a long story,” Marvin sighed. “I’ll let you read them, and you’ll get the idea.”

  He led Tyler through the master bedroom, into the walk in closet, and reached for a small metal box on the top shelf.

  “Slowly,” Morgan warned, at the ready in case the box contained a weapon.

  “I’ll just take it down and put it on the bed, then I’ll hand you the key so that you can open it if that’ll make you feel better,” Marvin offered.

  At Tyler’s curt nod, he did exactly that, pulling a ring of keys out of his pocket, and thumbing through them until he found the small one that opened the box. He handed it to the officer and backed away while Morgan opened the box, which contained only papers.

  “Okay, lemme grab that and we’ll take it out to the table so you can read them,” Marvin picked up the box and led the way to his kitchen table.

  “How many are there?”

  “There are five, and each one is worse than the last. I can put some coffee on while you read, if…” he started to offer, but Morgan interrupted him with a raised hand.

  “No. Don’t go to any trouble, I don’t drink coffee,” he demurred, not exactly telling the truth.

  He wasn’t about to drink anything in the Venkman household when he was investigating a poisoning death.

  Marvin Venkman sat across from him, playing word games on his phone, as Morgan pored over the five letters, scrutinizing each one carefully. When he set the last one down, he wished that he’d been wearing protective gloves.

  “There are some very serious-sounding threats in these letters, Mr. Venkman, and some pretty interesting accusations as well.”

  “Yes Officer, there are,” Marvin nodded, his eyes never wavering.

  “You’re having an affair?”

  “No sir, I am not. Carissa Mooney is a coworker of mine. She teaches girl’s physical education and I teach the guys, so we became friends. We have lunch sometimes. Ruth knows all about her. I’m a married man, sir, and I take that very seriously,” Marvin assured him.

  “And these letters are from her ex-boyfriend?”

  “Yes sir. She had to take out an order of protection on him because he’s bad news.”

  “When did he start threatening you and your wife?”

  “Bout three months ago, maybe four.”

  “Why didn’t you call the station and report it?”

  “We didn’t think he was serious, you know. I mean, who does something like this? And we figured that if we made trouble for him, it might be dangerous for Carissa.”

  “I see. These letters aren’t signed, what is this man’s name?” Morgan’s pen was poised over his notebook. He’d already made several notes about the letters.

  “Howard Parker.”

  “Do you know where I’d find Mr. Parker?”

  “Last I knew, he worked out at the chemical plant,” Marvin shrugged. “I think he has an apartment in town somewhere.”

  Morgan stopped for a moment, then wrote something down in his notebook, snapping it shut when Marvin seemed to be trying to look at his notes.

  “Your wife mentioned a bottle of scotch and a teakettle that she thought might be tainted, may I see those?”

  “Sure. I haven’t touched them since she was worried about it. The teakettle is on the stove over there, and the bottle of scotch is in the cabinet right beside the sink.

  Morgan slipped on a pair of nitrile gloves and examined the two items. “I’d like to take these with me to have them tested, if you don’t mind,” he said. It wasn’t a question.

  “No problem at all,” Marvin nodded. “You need a bag or anything?”

  “No, thanks. I have some evidence bags out in the car.” Sliding his notebook under his arm, Tyler picked up the scotch bottle and teakettle. “If you could just get the door, I’ll be on my way.”

  “You got it, let me know if you need anything else,” Marvin opened the door to let him out.

  “I’ll be in touch, thanks.”

  Officer Morgan Tyler had three stops to make now. The first was to go back to the station and turn the scotch bottle and teakettle over to the lab for testing, the second was the Schambaugh Chemical Plant to talk to Howard Parker and have a conversation with Ronnie Delario’s former boss, and last, but certainly not least, after a quick change of clothing, he planned to stop by Rossalyn Channing’s house.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  *

  Rossalyn grinned from ear to ear when she got Ryan’s ecstatic text. She’d known he’d be thrilled to come home from school and find Barney waiting for him. Truth be told, she’d been enjoying the hound’s sweet mellow presence too. Maybe a dog was just what they both needed.

  Finishing up her online supply order, Rossie was startled when Jose rapped on her office door and poked his head in.

  “Miss Rossalyn, there’s a lady here to see you, and she seems mad,” his eyes were wide.

  “Because that’s what I needed today,” Rossie chuckled, shaking her head. “Tell her I’ll be right out, Jose.”

  “You got it,” he smiled and disappeared.

  After clicking Send to complete her order, Rossalyn closed down the computer and took a breath, gearing up for whatever awaited her in the main dining room. She rarely had customer complaints, and was proud of the fact that she handled such events with sufficient grace that almost everyone left smiling. She wasn’t too terribly surprised when she entered the dining area and saw Ruth Venkman sitting sullenly in a chair on the far side.

  “Hi Ruth,” she smiled, determined to start things off on a positive note, and glad that there were only two other patrons in the café.

  “I’d like to speak with you outside Rossalyn,” she hissed through her teeth.

  “Sure,” Rossie headed for the door before things escalated.

  “Why did you go running to the cops the minute that I told you about what was going on with me?” Ruth demanded the moment they got out the door.

  “It wasn’t like that, Ruth,” she sighed. “Someone had seen us talking here and they told the police, who then came to see me. They’re just trying to find out who did this to your coworker. If what you had to say can help, then it’s a good thing that they know about it,” Rossie reasoned.

  “But now they probably think that I was trying to hide something!”

  “Were you?” Rossie raised
an eyebrow.

  “No!”

  “Then you have nothing to worry about,” she said gently, giving Ruth a reassuring smile. “Now look, the special today is Jose’s Bacon Mac and Cheese, and I’ve heard that a bowlful of that stuff will help put everything in perspective. If you want to give it a try, it’s on the house.”

  “But what if the police start asking me questions?” Ruth was beginning to relax a bit.

  “Just tell them the truth, that always work out best.”

  “You think so?”

  “I hope so,” Rossie chuckled, putting an arm around Ruth’s shoulders and steering her back toward the building. “Because I tell my son that on a regular basis.”

  **

  “Nope, no way,” Howard Parker shook his head. “I don’t know no Marvin Venkman,” he denied, adamant.

  “What about Carissa Mooney?” Officer Morgan Tyler persisted, not believing the man for a second. That question had a startlingly different effect on Howard.

  “Yeah, I know Rissy,” he muttered.

  “What’s the nature of your relationship with Miss Mooney?”

  “She’s my girl.”

  “She has an Order of Protection against you, isn’t that right?”

  “Well, technically, yeah, but that was a mistake and she said that she was gonna take care of that,” Howard averted his eyes.

  “Uh-huh. What transpired between the two of you that caused her to request the OP?”

  “It was just a misunderstanding. I just wanted to talk to her was all,” he shrugged. “She didn’t have to take it to that level, you know?”

  “Her statement says that she feared for her life,” Morgan stated flatly.

  “See, now that just ain’t right. I think that was like, a mistake, you know, like they recorded her statement wrong or something.”

  “It was written in her own handwriting,” Tyler stared him down, and Howard squirmed, but didn’t say a thing. Reaching into a file folder that he’d brought with him, he extracted copies that he’d made of the letters that Marvin Venkman had provided, and tossed them on the table in front of him. Howard Parker’s face paled. “Wanna change your story, Parker?” the officer asked dryly. “Or, if you’d prefer, we can continue this conversation down at the station.”