Well-Offed In Vermont Part 21

"I'm not in business to solve problems. I'm in business to sell things. But I'll tell ya what. Since there's nothing wrong with the mattress or the pump, I can't refund your purchase, but I can let you plug in the pump and blow up the thing here."

"You want me to inflate an air mattress in your shop?"

"Yup."

"And then take it back to the camp ... somehow."

"Yup."

"You're not going to charge me, are you? You know, since you're in business to sell things."

"Nope, it's on the house. If you spring a leak and need to re-inflate though, that's a different story."

"Naturally." Nick looked at his wife. "What do you think?"

"Oh, just do it," Stella replied.

Twenty minutes later, the Smart car crept out of the Perkins parking lot, hazard lights flashing, the inflated air mattress balanced on the roof. Stella, her right arm through the pa.s.senger-side window, held the front right corner, and Nick, his arm through the driver's-side window, held the left.

"Why couldn't we have gotten the moving truck?" Stella asked as they turned slowly onto Route 4.

"We can't fit another thing in that truck. Besides, I didn't want Grandpa Walton in there to change his mind about using the pump."

"A gas station air compressor would have worked, wouldn't it?"

"Yeah, but the gas station is on the other side of town. Do you feel like driving another five miles with this thing on the roof?"

"Considering we're traveling at fifteen miles an hour, no thanks. I'd like to get back to camp before nightfall."

Their trip having taken three times longer than usual, Nick and Stella arrived back at camp and pulled beside a familiar pickup truck.

Alma, her dark hair twisted into its usual plait, sat on the front porch between a large plastic cooler and a hibachi. She had traded the previous day's Country Living look and the morning's "Mel's Diner" garb in favor of a Gap-inspired ensemble of beige chinos, a white T-shirt, and a lightweight denim jacket. As Nick and Stella stepped out onto the makeshift parking area, she rose from her Adirondack chair to greet them.

"You two won't soon die from boredom. Why didn't you tell me you needed to inflate that thing? We could have brought it back in my truck."

Stella and Nick stared at each other, their mouths in the shape of large Os.

"Well, at least it isn't raining," Alma laughed. "Come on. I'll help you get that in the house, and then we can start our barbecue."

Grabbing hold of the corners and side, the trio carried the unwieldy mattress indoors and returned to the front porch where, as the rays of the setting sun seemed to set the forest ablaze, Alma set about retrieving cold beers from the cooler. "Got some steaks and potatoes to grill up, and I threw together a salad from what's left in my garden. Nothing fancy, but I'm sure you've heard about our New England frugality."

"I have, but it doesn't seem accurate. You and everyone else have been very generous," Stella said.

"Well, I admit to pinching my pennies 'til they bleed at times, but that's just plain practicality. It doesn't make us mean or stingy, but add it to the list of misconceptions. When you mention Vermont, everyone thinks of those rubes on that Bob Newhart show. I admit, there are some folks up here who look like that, but they're not dumb-not dumb by a long shot. And if another person asks me if I've met Ben or Jerry, I might just scream. Ben and Jerry's ice cream might have originated in Vermont, but it's not the ice cream Vermonters eat."

"What is?"

"Everyone has their favorites, depending on which part of the state you live in, but for my money, Wilc.o.x is the best. They sell it in store freezer cases now, but if you head south to the Wilc.o.x Dairy Farm, you can have your cone in the middle of the cow fields. Doesn't get much better than that."

"Makes me want to grab one right now."

"Better hurry: they close after this weekend; most outdoor things do. Might seem like summer now, but once this pa.s.ses it'll get cold fast. Then town will be overrun with skiers and s...o...b..arders."

Nick withdrew his pocketknife and set about opening the bottle caps. "How long does this weather usually last?"

"If we're lucky, a couple of days, but typically five minutes," Alma joked and raised her beer bottle. "Welcome to Vermont."

The three of them swigged back the ice-cold beer before settling into the trio of Adirondack chairs.

"So, what did you folks do today?" Alma asked, the tone of her voice making it seem like more than just a casual question.

"Oh, this, that, and the other," Stella replied vaguely.

"Why do I get the feeling you've been out stirring up trouble?"

"Guess that depends on who you ask," Nick answered.

"No, I'm pretty sure that's everyone you ask. Whole town's talking about you being some kind of undercover detectives."

Stella laughed and wondered who might have started such a rumor. Middleton, perhaps? "No, we're, um, we're definitely not detectives."

"Then why are you so interested in this whole Weston business?"

"We just want it all cleared up so we can move into house and get on with our lives. And, as much as we admire and respect your police force-"

"I know. They're not as fast as in the city; nothing here is. But they do a good, thorough job."

"We don't doubt it," Nick stated. "But when you're waiting to empty your moving truck, it's tough to sit back idly and watch."

"So you swear you're not working for the police at all?"

"I swear."

"So anything I tell you won't go back to Sheriff Mills?"

"We can't promise that. If you're pa.s.sing along a piece of information, fine. But if you're confessing to a crime ..."

"h.e.l.l no, the only crime I've ever been guilty of is lack of judgment."

"Then go ahead. Your secret's safe with us."

Alma took a swig of beer and then sighed. "I guess there's no other way to say it than to just come out with it: I was seeing Allen Weston."

"Romantically?"

Alma nodded.

"How come you haven't mentioned it before?" Stella asked.

"He and I had agreed to keep it quiet. I had been through a rotten time in my marriage, and Allen was seven years younger than I am. I didn't want people to know about our relationship in case it didn't work out."

"Judging from your description of Weston yesterday morning, I'd say it didn't."

"Nope. I tell ya, of all the times in my life to pick to be right-Allen Weston turned out to be a weasel, just like everyone said. I was just too stupid to see it."

"What happened?"

"We were okay for the first little while. Like I said at the bakery, Allen could be a charming man. Wasn't bad-looking either; most men his age are losing their hair or have a beer gut. Not Allen. He looked great for his age."

Nick opened his mouth to comment on the minoxidil they had found in Weston's medicine cabinet.

Stella shot him a warning glance. "Not to interrupt you, Alma, but would you say that Weston-er, Allen-was a sharp dresser?"

"Oh, absolutely. Everything he wore was just so. Even his casual pants had a sharp crease to them."

"So he wasn't a flannel-and-jeans sort of guy?"

"I don't think he even owned a pair of jeans. And flannel, to him, was for rednecks."

"Thanks. Go ahead with your story. You and Allen began seeing each other ..."

"Yes, and everything was good until about a month or so into the relationship. That's when he started talking about how successful my Sweet Shop was and asking if there was a way he could buy a partnership in it. I told him no. I didn't need a business partner, and if I did, it sure wouldn't be someone I was dating.

"Well, Allen wouldn't take no for an answer. Every time we got together he'd propose another deal. At first it didn't bother me. He was a businessman; he enjoyed wheeling and dealing. But after a while, I started to think that the only reason he started seeing me was so that he could get hold of my business."

"Did you confront him about it?"

"Oh yeah, he'd deny it and go out and do something to make me feel foolish for even mentioning it, like send me roses or surprise me with dinner. Then I'd drop the subject. It wasn't like I had any proof that he was trying to scam me. He was always doting on me when we were together, and the s.e.x was great"-again Nick opened his mouth, only to have Stella glare at him-"but it seemed fake. It felt fake. It felt like it was all a big front. Like he was acting that way to get close to me and then act out his true intentions. Things went on like that for a few months until, a week ago, my neighbor, Bunny, came over for coffee. She got to gossiping, as she usually does, and mentioned that she saw Weston outside of town with a woman in his car."

Nick spoke up. "So? It could have been a client."

"Normally I'd agree with you, but Allen was supposed to be out of town on vacation at the time. When he 'got back,' I asked him how his vacation had gone. He said it was fine and that he had missed me, but he mentioned nothing about being in town."

"Bunny could have been mistaken," Stella suggested. "Lots of men around here have beards."

"No. Bunny's a snoop, but she's a reliable snoop. Eyes like an eagle and ears like a bat. If she said she saw Allen, then she saw Allen."

"Might she have said what she did to be vindictive?"

"She had no idea I was seeing Weston. I always arranged to meet him at his house, and it was never on the same day or at the same time."

"You're positive she had no clue of your relationship? Because she told us that she had seen you and Weston flirting with each other."

"You spoke to her, then? Ha, she wastes no time, does she? I'm positive she had no clue about the relationship. Flirting, sure, but as far as she was aware, that was the extent of it. If she thought otherwise, she would have said something. She can't keep a lid on that mouth of hers to save her soul."

"Did she tell you who the woman in the car was?" Stella asked.

"She didn't get a good look at her. Allen was driving in the opposite direction as Bunny. When they pa.s.sed each other on the road, Allen looked right at her, but the woman hunched down in her seat."

"Did you confront Allen about it?"

"No, I figured it was time to move on."

"So you broke up with Weston over a woman whose ident.i.ty you don't know," Nick summarized.

"No, there was the business thing too. But if you're asking if the woman was the straw that broke the camel's back, absolutely. I realize it sounds strange, but I've known Bunny a lot longer than I'd known Allen. And, to be honest, I hadn't trusted him in months. I guess I was looking for something to put the nail in the coffin. Bunny's story did the trick."

"When did you break up with him?"

"Earlier this week. I went to his office pretending to want an estimate on a new well."

"How did Allen take it?"

Alma's eyes welled with tears. "He shrugged and said 'That's too bad.' Then he said he had to get back to work. That's it ... nothing else-no stop, I love you. Just a shrug and a get lost."

"You poor thing," Stella said sympathetically. "To think you wasted your time on such a jerk."

"Yeah, that's too bad," Nick spoke up. "But why are you telling us all this?"

"I'm not a stupid woman. Allen's reaction gives me a reason for wanting him dead. But I also know it's better that I tell you everything now than to have you find out on your own."

"Yeah, I get that. What I mean is, why us? Why not go to the police? Why not tell Sheriff Mills?"

Alma looked up in fear. "He already knows."

"He does?"

"Well, I'm not sure he knows the details, but it was the morning after I broke up with Allen. I had been up all night crying, so you could imagine what a mess I was. Mills showed up at his usual time, but it was raining, so I let him in before opening. I tried to be strong, I really did, but I eventually broke down and told him what had happened. Before I could even finish the story, he was off his stool and out of the shop."

"What day was this?"

"The day before you arrived. The day before Allen was killed."

Stella felt her heart nearly leap out of her chest. Was it possible that the sheriff had killed Weston-not out of jealousy but out of vengeance for the woman he loved?

"Did you see Mills the next morning?" Nick continued.

"Yes, he showed up at his usual time. Like always."

"How was he?"

"Things were a bit awkward at first. I apologized for my outburst, and he excused me, like I knew he would. He said he understood what I was going through, a.s.sured me that everything would be okay, and then offered to listen if I needed to talk. I thanked him, and breakfast went on as usual."

"Do you think he killed Allen Weston?"

"I honestly don't know. The way he rea.s.sured me everything would be okay didn't strike me as strange at the time, but now ... I'm not sure if I actually suspect him or if I'm just in shock over the way he ran out of the shop that morning. It was so ... so unlike him."

"Why would you be in shock? He might not react that way often-okay, never-but you've gotta know by now that Mills has a thing for you."