“When I was just a little thing I always wanted me a peacock as a pet. That ain’t never happened. So this was the next best thing. And the sign sure is eye-catching, or so folks tell me.”
As Drews prepared their order, Decker said, “This place looks pretty new.”
“Open less than a year. I always loved to bake, so why not make money off it? And I like being the boss. And I’m making good money. Have the fulfillment center partly to thank. We get a lot of traffic from there. All the heavy lifting and walking makes people hungry for dang sure.”
“I bet,” said Decker.
As she poured the coffees Linda Drews said, “How’d you hear about us?”
“Cindi Riley.”
“Oh, right. Cindi’s real nice. She gets the word out about local businesses. We’re all trying to bring the town back.”
“She also told us about your son. He was a friend of hers.”
Drews had leaned down and was using a pair of tongs to pull out two muffins from the display cabinet. She stiffened at Decker’s words.
“Cindi told you about Keith?”
“Yeah. It sounded really sad.”
Drews slowly put the muffins in a bag.
“He was my only child. You never get over that.”
“I’m sure. It was an overdose, Cindi said,” noted Decker.
Drews nodded. “Baronville’s got lots of problems. Biggest one is drugs. Now, I admit, I was on ’em for a long time. Started out on Percocet and then became a mixer.”
“A mixer?” said Jamison.
“I’d mix the Percocet with Oxy, Xanax, hell, anything I could think of. I’d do a couple hundred pills a week.” She put the bag of muffins on the counter. “How old do you think I am?”
Decker shrugged and looked uncomfortable. “I don’t like guessing people’s ages.”
“I just turned fifty.”
She smiled sadly at their surprised looks. “Drugs ain’t beauty aids. I know I look like I’m sixty-five.”
“But you’ve obviously conquered your addiction,” said Jamison.
Drews rapped her knuckles against the wooden counter. “It’s a fight every day, but today I’m clean. Tomorrow? Who knows.”
“You’re remarkably candid about your experience,” said Jamison. “I mean, you don’t know us.”
“I talked about it long enough at the addiction centers. You got to wrap your mind around it. You got to lay your soul bare if you’re going to get better. I tried more than one way to do it, because one thing works for some and not for others. But I finally kicked it, thank you God. Hardest thing I ever had to do.”
“But not Keith?” said Decker.
Drews started to ring up their order and then stopped. “No.” Tears formed in her eyes. “You ain’t supposed to outlive your child, but I did Keith. He died sixteen months ago. He would’ve been twenty-eight next month.”
“I’m really sorry,” said Jamison.
“But at least you have the bakery,” prompted Decker.
“Well, that’s due to Keith really.”
“How so?” asked Decker.
“Keith had him a life insurance policy for a million dollars, and I was the beneficiary. Never could’ve afforded this place otherwise. Ovens alone are a damn fortune.” She paused as Jamison handed her the credit card for the coffee and muffins. “I’d rather have my son,” she said dully.
“Well, it was lucky that he had a policy,” said Decker. “I guess he had it through work, maybe.”
“No, not through work. He had a job at the fulfillment center. He was a picker. Running all day long, bending over, lifting stuff. Then he hurt his back real bad and got laid off. He went to the doctor. Got on pain pills. And there you go. He got hooked. Same old story. One day he thought he was taking heroin but it was really that fentanyl crap. He was dead before the EMTs could get to him.”
“That’s awful,” said Jamison.
“Well, in Baronville, we just call that normal and ain’t that a damn shame.”
Decker said, “Well, it was fortunate that your son got his policy before he became addicted. I doubt he could have passed a medical exam if he’d been addicted.”
“I know. Willie said the same thing.”
“Willie?”
“Willie Norris is the one who sold Keith the policy. He told me that too when he gave me the check. But Keith was clean when he took out that policy. And then he was dead.”
“So he took out the policy after he injured himself? And for a million dollars?”
“Yeah. He heard it was a good idea. See, he wanted to get rehired at the fulfillment center. And that place can be dangerous. What with all them robots and such. Someone just got killed by one of them suckers, did you know that?”
“Yeah, we heard,” said Jamison quickly.
“Who suggested your son get life insurance? Was it this Willie Norris?”
“I don’t know exactly. But I guess some good came out of Keith’s death. I was able to bury him proper with the money and then open this place.”
She rubbed her eyes. “I hope you enjoy the muffins. And spread the word.”
Jamison said, “Do you have the contact information for Mr. Norris? My sister just lost her husband and I’m thinking she might need some life insurance. She has a young daughter.”
“Oh, sure. You got to think about that stuff, ’cause you just never know in this old world.”
Linda Drews rummaged around in a drawer and pulled out a business card. “Here’s the information. It’s about a mile from here. Willie’s a good guy. Lived here forever, just like me.”
Jamison looked down at the card. “Thanks a lot.” She put a five in the tip jar on the counter.
“Thank you,” said Drews.
Decker looked the place over. “I hope you make it,” he said.
“Me too,” Drews replied. “’Cause this is all I got left.”
Chapter 59
JAMISON HANDED DECKER the business card as they climbed into the truck.
“It does make you wonder,” he said.
“What?” she asked.
“Keith Drews loses his job and then he buys life insurance. But Linda said he bought the policy after he hurt his back. That means he would have been on the painkillers.”
“Maybe he wasn’t addicted then.”
“Maybe not,” said Decker doubtfully.
“Do we go see Willie Norris now?”
“No, that’ll keep. Right now, let’s drive around a bit, have our coffee and muffins, and talk some things through.”
“Okay, shoot.” Then she bit into her muffin and moaned, “Oh, God, I’m going to need a cigarette.”
“Yeah, well, hold that thought.”
He took a bite of muffin and a sip of his coffee. He said, “Costa, Tanner, Swanson, and Babbot. Let’s take them one by one and see where we stand.”
“Okay.”
“Bradley Costa figured out where the Baron treasure was and came to town to get it. He got hired by the bank that held the mortgage on the property.”
“You think he planned it that way?”
Decker nodded and took a moment to wipe cream off his lips. “I’m sure he did his research and joined the bank because it held the mortgage. He was a hotshot Wall Street type. How many of those do you think come to places like this?”
“Zero.”
“So he renegotiated the deal with Baron and put in the moral turpitude clause.”
“And then do you think he proceeded to frame Baron for the murders?”
“No. For the simple fact that he ended up being murdered. I think he might have had some scheme in mind to nail Baron on the moral turpitude clause. It didn’t have to be murder. It could have been drugs. Maybe he knew about Swanson squatting up there and keeping his drug stash in the potting shed. Then Baron goes to jail and the loan is called, the property foreclosed, and the straw man buys the property. Then they get the treasure. But the straw man double-crossed Costa and killed him so he wouldn’t have to split the treasure. And then he completed the original plan to frame Baron, by murdering four people. In that way, with Costa, he killed two birds with one stone.”
“But that’s all speculation.”
“I’m going on probabilities.”
“Okay. And Swanson died because he was squatting on Baron’s property. And he was also a drug dealer, which, like you said, would probably trigger the morals clause if they could tie Baron to drug dealing.”
Decker nodded. “And they wouldn’t want Swanson around on the property while they looked for the treasure. Again, two birds with one stone. They get him off the property and use his murder to frame Baron.”