Free All Natural Murder by Staci McLaughlin Page B

curious as to why I was asking these questions, but maybe she got lonely, stuck out here.
    “At first. But Bobby Joe was friendly. Maybe a little too friendly, if you know what I mean. Donald didn’t like him flirting with me. And lately he was grumbling about his work, saying he was getting ready to fire Bobby Joe if only he could find the proof.”
    I crushed another Funyun as I gripped my snack bag tighter and edged toward her. “Proof about what?”
    Behind me, I heard the tinkle of the bell that signaled someone was opening the door. The woman immediately dropped her cigarette on the pavement and ground it out with her wedge heel.
    “Tara,” Donald’s voice roared behind me. “How many times have I told you not to smoke around these pumps? Get your ass back in here. Now.”
    Tara ducked her head and scurried past me. I turned around and watched as she darted past her husband and inside the store. Donald stared at me for a moment, anger clearly showing on his face. He stepped inside and pulled the door shut behind him.
    Well, great. Donald obviously controlled the relationship. How was I supposed to ask Tara what she’d been about to say without Donald interfering? I debated for a moment whether I should march back inside and talk to Tara, Donald or no Donald. But his face was closed tighter than that door. No way would Tara be allowed to speak to me.
    Instead, I got in my car, threw the junk food in the backseat, and started the engine, flinching at the clock on the dash. I tried to keep consistent and brief lunch times, and I’d already been gone more than an hour. Of course, my sister was caught up in a murder investigation, so maybe I could make an exception today.
    Still, I hovered over the speed limit as I zipped to work, maneuvering around the lumber trucks and slow-moving RVs. I briefly wondered what Jason was up to. He usually called once a day to say hi, but he must be swamped with work since he was covering Bobby Joe’s death. I’d touch base with him later.
    At the spa, the parking lot held two more cars than when I’d left on my errand. The weekend guests must be arriving.
    I parked in my usual spot on the side of the lot but decided to enter through the main door in case the new guests needed anything. On my way by the duck pond, I spotted a yellow head bobbing among the nearby grass, well outside the fenced area. I scooped up the wandering duckling and placed it by the edge of the water before entering the lobby.
    I found four people inside, two at the counter talking to Gordon and the other two sitting on the love seat, bags at their feet. Gordon strained so hard to smile when he saw me that I worried a jaw muscle would snap.
    “Here’s my assistant. Finally.”
    Inside, I seethed at the word “assistant,” but I wouldn’t make a scene in front of the guests. “Did you need some help, Gordon?” I asked in an overly perky voice.
    Gordon pointed his ballpoint pen at the couple on the love seat. “The Steddelbeckers have checked in. Could you please show them to their room?”
    “I’d be delighted.” I grabbed the key from under the counter. “Would you follow me, please?” I said to the couple.
    They stood. Mr. Steddelbecker was tall and lanky, his bony knees peeking out from beneath his Bermuda shorts, his ankles hidden under white socks and sandals. An honest-to-goodness non-digital camera, something I hadn’t seen in ages, hung on a strap around his neck. Mrs. Steddelbecker was even thinner than her husband but a good foot shorter. She leaned heavily on an oak cane as she shambled toward me, making me wonder if she was older than the sixty or so that she otherwise appeared to be.
    I reached for the duffel bag that rested by the love seat, but Mr. Steddelbecker waved me away. “I can carry my own luggage. Otherwise you’ll be wanting a tip.”
    “Good thinking, Horace,” Mrs. Steddelbecker said.
    I felt my cheeks heat up. “No tip required, sir.”
    “That’s what all these