As Gouda as Dead by Avery Aames Page B

a nice enough man. A Good Samaritan, I’d imagine. He donates to the Providence Children’s Fund every time he comes in here.” She pointed to a red donation pot sitting on a table by the exit. The fund benefited kids who needed to attend afterschool programs. “Not that you’d be able to tell by Jawbone’s looks. Scruffy.” She shuddered. “No matter.” She wiggled her fingers. “Like I said, he’s nice enough. He’s always humming whenever he comes into the shop. Yes sirree! He’s a hummer. Come to think of it, maybe he wasn’t poking Tim. What do you think, hon? Maybe Jawbone was giving him something, like a business card. Your eyes aren’t the best, you know.”
    â€œThen why would Jawbone chase Tim?” he asked.
    â€œGot me.”
    â€œWhat direction did he head, Ray?” I said.
    â€œJawbone turned right out of the lot.”
    Exactly like Violet claimed.
    â€œHuh,” Dottie said. “Doesn’t he live south of town? Not far from your grandparents, Charlotte.”
    If Jawbone did live south of town and he went in the other direction, maybe he’d had a reason to follow Tim. Had Jawbone apprehended Tim at Jordan’s farm? Had he confronted him with a gun? Had he forced Tim into the cheese-making facility, knocked him out, and drowned him?
    My stomach started to churn. Tamping down the anguish that was climbing up my throat, I thanked Dottie, paid for the pastries, and headed toward the exit.
    â€œIf there’s anything we can do,” Dottie added.
    â€œThere is. Tell Chief Urso what you saw.”
    â€œWill do.” Dottie nudged Ray. “One last thing, Charlotte. Not that it means anything, but Violet was flirting with Tim something awful.”
    â€œShe wasn’t flirting with him,” Ray countered.
    â€œSure she was, hon. She’s sweet on him. A woman knows.” Dottie gave me a shrewd look. “You might ask her what was bothering Tim. And, in the meantime, you might ask Frank Mueller how he feels about Violet putting the moves on Tim.” Frank Mueller, Zach Mueller’s father, owned Café au Lait. “Frank and Violet, well . . . everyone knows. They’ve been lovers for years.”
    â€œNot true,” Ray said.
    â€œJust saying.” Dottie winked.

CHAPTER

    Driving to Pace Hill Farm, I was struck by how peaceful the scenery was. Sunlight glistened on the crystalline snow. A few cows, braving the cold, huddled near a stand of trees. A number of tourists had parked alongside the road to take pictures of the rolling hills. A steady stream of sleighs filled with happy travelers passed by me heading in the opposite direction, toward town.
    When I arrived at the farm, the place looked normal. No police cars stood in the parking area. No investigators roamed the grounds. However, the yellow crime scene tape was still in place around the cheese-making facility.
    I approached the front door of Jordan’s house and saw a handwritten note addressed to me posted to it. Jordan had filled the note with loving phrases. In closing, he directed me to come to the cheese cave. To get to the cave, I had to head past the house to another building located at the foot of a hill. The building’s reception area was brick and cement. The caves themselves were carved deep beneath the hill. The temperatures within were perfect for aging cheese, naturally staying between forty-two and forty-four degrees Fahrenheit. I remembered the first time I’d entered the caves, thinking how large they were and how marvelous it would be to throw a Christmas party there with carolers and candles.
    Jordan must not have heard me enter. I found him rotating wheels of cheese on the shelves.
    I set the bag of pastries down on a tasting table and said, “Where’s that breakfast you promised me?”
    He turned to face me and my heart wrenched because his cheeks were streaked with tears. I