Coconut Cream Confession Page 6

  “Could you be a dear and sign this for me?” Stacy asked me as she handed me the receipt. “My carpal tunnel is in my writing hand.”

  “Sure,” I said as I signed her name. “How much of a tip do you want me to put down?”

  “A tip?” Stacy laughed as she walked away. “A tip…what for?”

  “Seriously,” Star whispered under her breath as she stared Stacy down. “Maybe the wrong person was shot.”

  Bonnie May and I both looked at Star in disbelief. Lucky for us, Stacy didn’t hear her. That woman acted grumpy enough as it is.

  “I’m kidding, you guys,” she replied. “Sort of…”

  Bonnie May shook her head. “What’s become of our quiet little town? Sunny Shores used to be safe.”

  “Who’d have thought we’d have a psychotic version of Robin Hood going around town shooting people with arrows?” I said in agreement. “I wish we had more than one serious suspect.”

  “I’ve known you since you were knee-high to a grasshopper, dear,” Bonnie May said. “You won’t give up until you find your answer.”

  Bonnie May’s words of encouragement ignited a fire inside me. She was right. I couldn’t sit around and expect clues to come to me. I needed to investigate, and I knew just the place.

  Chapter 13

  I woke up the next morning fully rested and rejuvenated. It was a beautiful day, and I felt bound and determined to make the best of it.

  I prepared a few extra pies for Bonnie May. When finished, I asked Star to drop by before her shift. Although I told her I only wanted to drop the additional Coconut Crème Confession pies at the Breezy Bean, I had ulterior motives.

  With my business shut down, I enjoyed an abundance of free time. Maybe that was why I remained so focused on the mystery surrounding Ms. Pettyjohn’s death. That…plus I didn’t have a life.

  “Why’d you call me over here so early?” Star said as she strolled in, half-asleep. “The Breezy Bean doesn’t open for another couple of hours.”

  “I figured you’d enjoy the extra time to visit with your cat.”

  “What’s the real reason?” Star asked as she stared at me, not convinced. “This is about the murder, isn’t it?”

  “Guilty as charged. As much as I enjoy the time Mr. Whiskers and I have spent together, there are other pressing matters to attend to,” I said as I picked up my notebook. “Let’s take a trip to the Bumbling Buoy.”

  “Look Kara, I know you’re under a lot of stress lately, but don’t you think it’s too early to get wasted? At least wait until lunch like a normal person.”

  “No. Ms. Pettyjohn was murdered in the wooded area between T.J.’s farm and the Bumbling Buoy. My hunch is that we’ll find some answers there. The Bumbling Buoy property may provide an additional clue. The police could have missed something.”

  “As much as I love playing Watson to your Sherlock, my shift begins in less than two hours. You know how Bonnie May can be. I don’t have the patience today to have her yelling at me for being late. I’ll snap back, get fired, and get kicked out of school for not paying. I don’t believe you want that on your conscience.”

  The funny thing was, I believed her. It didn’t take a wild imagination to imagine that scenario taking place. I knew Star too well at this point, or so I thought.

  “It’ll be quick, I promise. We’ll make a quick pit stop at the Bumbling Buoy, then we’ll go straight to the Breezy Bean,” I explained. “Besides, I need to drop off these Coconut Crème Confession pies I made for Bonnie May. They’re selling like hotcakes.”

  “Ok, I’ll drive you there as long as you promise we’ll leave by 11:30,” she said as I nodded in agreement. “Otherwise, the car leaves without you.”

  We arrived at the Bumbling Buoy Bar and Grille around 10:45 am. The place opened for lunch at 11:00, so I hoped to have a few minutes to talk to the owner before the lunch crowd arrived.

  We walked in to an empty bar, with only a man behind the bar cleaning. He looked up as he continued to clean a glass with a white towel.

  “We don’t open until 11:00, ladies,” he said as he continued to clean. “You can wait outside if you want.”

  “Is that anyway to treat a customer, Joe?” Star shouted as she pushed her way in front of me. “Just wait until I rate you on Yelp. Zero stars for you.”

  “I didn’t see it was you, Star,” the man said as he removed his apron. He walked out from behind the bar and gave Star a hug.

  “Seriously, Star,” I said, dumbfounded. “You’re on a first name basis with the bartender here?”

  “Are you kidding?” he said as he grinned. “Star is one of my favorite customers. We even have a drink named after her.”

  “This is my boss, Kara Summers,” Star said as she introduced me to the man.

  “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Kara. I’m Joseph Barnes. You can call me Joe for short.”

  Joe Barnes owned the Bumbling Buoy Bar and Grill. He’d inherited the bar from his father, who passed away a few years back. Joe not only owned the place but tended bar on most nights.

  “I don’t think I’ve seen you around here,” he said as he walked back behind the bar. “What can I do for you ladies?”

  “I’m sure by now you’ve heard about the murder that took place between your property and T.J.’s farm,” I replied.

  “That was very unfortunate and gruesome,” he replied. “Who murders someone with an arrow?”

  “Were you working that night, Joe?” Star asked as we both took a seat in front of the bar.

  “Yes ma’am. I worked right behind this very bar.”

  “Did you see anything unusual that night?”

  “Just like I told the cops, I didn’t see anything regarding the murder,” he said, appearing defensive. “But Margaret Pettyjohn and her boyfriend did come in for a drink earlier that evening. They sat in the same spot you guys are sitting in.”

  “Her boyfriend?” I asked.

  “Yeah, his name is Perry Butler. He’s a regular around here. I’d say he’s in here five nights a week.”

  “Did they act strange that night?”

  “Now that I’m really thinking about it, something did happen,” he said as he leaned over towards us. “Perry was here for about an hour before Margaret showed up. They both had a drink together before someone called her on the landline here. After the call, she seemed upset and stormed out of the bar.”

  “What about Perry?” I asked. “Did he follow her?”

  “Perry sat for about ten minutes before settling up his tab and leaving. That’s the last time I saw either one of them that night.”

  “I wonder who called her?” I asked Joe as I wrote down a few notes.

  “I can log in to my account later and see if I can track the number.”

  “That’ll be awesome, Joe,” Star said as she stood up from the wooden bar stool. “Thanks for the time, but we have to go. I can’t be late for work.”

  “No problem,” he said as he grinned. “Hopefully we’ll see you here later tonight.”

  “Maybe,” she replied as she started to walk away.

  “Seriously, Star,” I said as I sounded like a scolding mother. “I can’t believe you, sometimes. I thought you were more responsible.”

  Uncharacteristically lacking a quippy response, Star stormed out of the bar. Surprised by her reaction, I remained seated at the bar in shock and silence. I couldn’t recall a time where I’d seen her that upset. Star normally held her emotions close to the chest.

  Sensing my confusion, Joe walked up to help ease the tension. He smiled as he placed a glass of ice water in front of me.

  “Star’s a complicated woman, that’s for sure,” he said as he leaned forward against the bar.

  “Believe me, I know,” I replied as I shook my head in agreement. “The last thing I wanted to do was upset her. Most of the alcoholics I’ve encountered started at a young age. I don’t want her going down that same road. She’s way too intelligent and has too much potential
.”

  He laughed out loud. “Are you serious? Star drink? That’s a good one.”

  “What are you talking about?” I asked, confused. “You guys even named a drink after her, for crying out loud.”

  “Kara, I can assure you the only drink Star orders around here is Diet Coke with a splash of grenadine and two cherries. I call it the Star Struck.”

  “Are you serious?”

  “Yes, I’m positive. Besides, this should tell you all you need to know,” he said as he pointed to a sign behind him. The sign stated, ‘Alcohol Sales to Minors under 21 Strictly Prohibited’.

  “If I or anyone who works for me is caught selling alcohol to a minor, I’d lose my alcohol license. My business would shut down. It’s not worth it to me to serve anyone who’s underage, friend or not.”

  “Oh,” I said. I started to feel embarrassed for the false assumptions I’d made. “I’m still confused as to why she comes to a bar in the first place. She could get Diet Coke anywhere.”

  “She has her reasons.” Joe smiled. “Why don’t you go outside and ask her?”

  He was right. Instead of sitting at the bar and moping, I should apologize.

  “Thanks Joe,” I said as I grabbed my purse and walked toward the exit.

  Outside the bar, Star furiously tapped her finger as she sat on the bench beside the pay phone. Her face looked as red as a ripe strawberry. She took a deep breath when she noticed me and turned her head the other way.

  Although she displayed all the signs of someone who wanted to be left alone, I cautiously sat down on the bench beside her.

  My heart dropped to the bottom of my chest.

  “I’m sorry, Star. I really am. I had no idea you didn’t drink. I just assumed…”

  “You know that sharp curve about a mile from here? The curve before Winston’s General Store? The night it happened, my sister tried to call me. I noticed the call but decided not to answer. A big fight blew up between us earlier that day, and I held that anger inside. I ignored her call,” Star said.

  She continued. “I sent the calls to voicemail. After a few minutes, I listened to them. She was trying to get a ride home, because she felt too drunk to drive. She wanted me to pick her up, but I ignored her. That was the last time I heard her voice.”

  “Oh, sweetie,” I replied as my heart sank lower.

  “She was found in her car in a ditch that night. She ran off the road five miles north of the bar. As a favor to our family, the police sealed the toxicology reports,” she said as she wiped a tear from her eye. “But we knew the truth. She was drunk and never should have driven.”

  I reached into my purse and pulled out a Kleenex.

  “If I’d just answered the phone that night…If only I was there to pick her up, none of this would have happened. My sister would still be here.”

  “Star, sweetie, there’s no way for you to know that.”

  “That same line’s been repeated hundreds of times by a hundred different people. It’s no consolation. Deep inside my heart…” she said as she wiped away a single tear. “I do appreciate it, though. No worries.”

  “So why are you a regular, here?” I asked. “Wouldn’t this place drum up bad memories?”

  “That’s why I have this tattoo of a phone on my wrist,” Star said as she turned her wrist over.

  An image of a small cellphone was tattooed on her wrist. I’d noticed it in the past, but never asked its meaning.

  “This is a reminder to me to always pick up the phone, no matter what,” she explained as she rubbed the tattoo with her finger. “I come here on my free nights to serve as a designated driver for anyone who needs it. My sister is gone, but that doesn’t mean I can’t help save someone else.”

  Tears flowed as we both cried like big babies. We both stood up and gave each other a hug. I was surprised, since I’d never seen Star so vulnerable.

  “I’m so sorry, Star. I never should have misjudged you. I hope you can forgive me.”

  Star smiled. “It’s ok. It actually felt good to get that out.”

  Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed something odd in the distance.

  “Is that what I think it is?” I asked. It appeared to be an object stuck in a tree about twenty yards or so away.

  I walked over to the wooded area between the bar and T.J.’s farm. As I inched closer, the object became clear. It was an arrow.

  “For such a great shot, he certainly missed the target a few times,” Star said as she walked towards the tree to retrieve the arrow.

  “Don’t touch it,” I called as her hand reached for the arrow. “Haven’t you watched CSI? You can’t just touch it with your bare hands.”

  I reached into my purse and pulled out a pair of latex gloves. Star rolled her eyes as I handed them to her.

  “Really, Kara,” she said. “Are you seriously carrying gloves around with you now?”

  I smiled. “You can’t be too careful nowadays.”

  Star reluctantly put the gloves on before approaching the tree. She gripped the shaft of the arrow with her left hand and attempted to pull it out.

  “Crap,” Star shouted as she jumped away from the tree. She shook her hand furiously, muttering a few choice words under her breath. These were words I was sure her mother wouldn’t approve of.

  “Are you ok?” I asked.

  “The shaft of that arrow is sharp,” Star said as she showed me her hand. “It almost sliced my hand in two.”

  While she was trying to pull the arrow out of the tree, the shaft of the arrow sliced through the glove and cut the inside of Star’s hand. The cut was minor, but a little blood dripped down slowly from the wound.

  “You better do something about that before it gets infected. Run back into the bar. I’m sure Joe has a first aid kit.”

  As Star walked away, I looked over at the arrow, still stuck inside the tree. My curiosity wouldn’t allow me to step away and leave it in the tree. The arrow clearly was evidence. I needed it but didn’t want to risk cutting my hand.

  So I reached down and slipped my right sneaker and sock off. Using the sock, I wrapped it around the base of the shaft. Slightly rocking the arrow back and forth as I pulled, I could retrieve it. With a bit of effort, I finally removed the arrow from the tree.

  “My first clue,” I thought as I stared at the arrow with a sense of pride and accomplishment.

  I walked back into the Bumbling Buoy to check on Star. She was sitting at the bar talking to Joe.

  “What do you have in your hand?” Joe asked. “Is that an arrow?”

  “I found this in the woods,” I said as I placed the arrow on the bar. “It looks like the same type that was used to kill Margaret Pettyjohn.”

  “If there’s anyone in the town that could identify that arrow, it’d be ol’ Dickerson,” Joe explained as he examined the arrow. “If I wanted answers, I’d visit Dickerson’s Sporting Goods.”

  Chapter 14

  Later that afternoon, Star and I drove to the local sporting goods store, Dickerson’s Sporting Goods. Dickerson’s was the only sporting goods store in the area. The next closest store was over an hour south.

  Star and I walked into what seemed like another world to us. Mounted animal heads and taxidermied animals decorated the room from floor to ceiling. The only thing more abundant were the hundreds of knives and guns on display. Needless to say, Star and I stuck out like a sore thumb.

  At the front counter stood a tall, heavyset man with a long beard decked out in camouflage. He was the owner, Randy Dickerson.

  “Howdy girls,” he said before spitting into a cup. “What ye lookin’ for?”

  “Can you tell us about this arrow?” I asked as I placed it on top of the glass counter in front of him.

  “That’s a doozy,” he said as he gently picked it up. “That’s a CTX-721 Carbon arrow. It’s no joke. Where’d you two git this at?”

  “We were hoping you could help us out with that. Have you sold any of these to anyone recently?”


  “I’ll have you know, I take the privacy of my customers very seriously. Some may call this a redneck shop, but we take our credibility and integrity serious like.”

  Having lost all patience, Star slammed her hand on the counter. She lifted her hand to reveal a crisp twenty-dollar bill. The owner looked at Star and smiled.

  “But we are a business, aren’t we? This is America, after all. I keep a log of all items sold,” he said as he pulled out a large binder from below the counter.

  “Customer privacy, eh?” Star said sarcastically.

  “Don’t judge. I have my reasons,” he said as he flipped through the book. “It shouldn’t be hard to find the owner. We don’t sell a lot of bow hunting equipment in the summer months, since bow season isn’t until October.”

  “Why would someone buy these types of arrows?” I asked as I examined the arrow. “These seem a bit overkill for target practice.”

  “Darling, the tips of those arrows aren’t designed for target practice. I can tell ya that much,” he said with a laugh. “Those are designed to kill.”

  “Kill what? A deer?”

  “This arrow would go through one end of a deer and out the other. These are much too messy for deer hunting. These are used to hunt larger game mostly,” he said as he pointed over to a large stuffed black bear in the back corner. “It’s the perfect arrow to take down something as big as a black bear. In fact, a man could take an elephant down with one of these.”

  “Or woman,” Star interjected.

  “You’re too cute, buttercup,” he replied.

  “Excuse me,” Star said as she began to get noticeably frustrated.

  “Why is the shaft of this arrow so dang sharp?” I asked as I attempted to defuse the situation.

  “Those perforated edges are designed to keep dem arrows from completely goin’ in and out of their target,” he replied. “At least, that’s the intention. Ah, here it is,” he said as he pointed to a line in the log book. “The last person to git these arrows was Billy Sims.”