The Final Chop
The last thing I expected to see as I ambled down the sidewalk along Orchard Road on this cool, sleepy Saturday morning was Joy Whiffle running, practically flying, down the front steps of Brunswick’s Butcher Shop, screaming loud enough to wake all the not-so-early-to-rise Darlington Hills residents.
I hurried towards her, wincing as hot coffee splashed from the small opening of my lid onto my hand and coat.
My pumpkin-spiced latte would have to wait, as well as my trip to the hardware store, where I needed to fetch paint samples for a client’s redesign project. “What happened?” I asked urgently.
Joy stopped in front of me and threw a panicked glance over her shoulder at the butcher shop. “Monty…he’s dead!” She doubled over and clutched her knees, trying to catch her breath. “He’s lying on the floor…and there’s a meat cleaver in his…” Her voice trailed off as she squeezed her eyes shut. “I just spoke to him earlier this morning when he called to ask me to come in, since our other cashier called in sick.”
After calling the police, I guided Joy to a nearby bench and sat her down. “Did anything seem strange when Monty called?”
Joy shook her head. “Monty was complaining about the delivery drivers being late again. The local restaurants expect their meat by eight o’clock.”
I turned and peered through the large windows of the butcher shop, but didn’t see anyone inside. “Who else arrives early?”
“Only the delivery drivers—Cara, Kenneth, and Silas,” she said. “They should return from deliveries soon. They’ve all worked here for ten years, ever since the shop opened. None of them would have ended Monty’s life.”
“We’ll see about that,” I muttered, then turned my head at the sound of a truck hurtling down Orchard Road.
“Here comes Silas,” Joy said, her voice broken by sobs. “He’s Monty’s younger brother. They’ve been distant lately…ever since Monty started pressuring Silas to pay back all the money he borrowed from him.”
When Joy broke the news to Silas, he looked stunned but not completely devastated. “I didn’t even get a chance to say hello to him this morning. With the heavy traffic on Pickett Lane, I was running late, so I just loaded my truck, locked the shop’s door, and left. If only I’d see him one last time.”
Monty’s ex-wife, Cara Brunswick, pulled up a minute later, music blaring through the truck’s open windows. Before Cara got out of her truck, Joy explained, “She’s still bitter about their divorce settlement; it’s been an ongoing issue for them. They split the butcher shop but decided to keep it running together.”
Joy rose from the bench as Cara approached, wrapping her in a hug. “Monty is gone,” Joy sobbed. “Someone killed him this morning in the back of the shop. The police will be here any minute. I’m so sorry for being the one to tell you!”
Cara’s eyes widened with shock and her face drained of color. “Some days I couldn’t stand to be in the same room as Monty,” Cara cried, “but I never would have wanted this to happen!”
“Did you speak with Monty this morning before your deliveries?” I asked.
“Yes, briefly—wait, are you suggesting that I killed Monty?” she asked, incredulous.
“Of course not,” I replied calmly.
“I couldn’t even imagine doing something so gruesome. There’s a reason Monty was the butcher and I’m in charge of orders and deliveries. I can’t stand the sight of blood.”
The rumble of another truck sounded down the street moments before it easily maneuvered between the other delivery trucks. A handsome middle-aged man stepped out onto the sidewalk, his expression quickly turning to one of concern as he caught sight of Joy’s tear-streaked face.
“That’s Kenneth,” Joy whispered to me as the man jogged toward us. “He’s dating Cara now, and he—” she stopped talking as Kenneth drew closer. I watched his face as Joy delivered the news to him. His mouth formed a wide “O” and for a moment, it seemed like he would join Joy in crying.
“You’re positive Monty is dead?” he asked Joy, still looking doubtful even after she nodded. “I can’t believe this is happening. Just can’t wrap my head around it. The cops need to take a close look at Silas. I heard him yelling at poor Monty yesterday afternoon behind the shop. Not sure what it was about, since I try to stay out of such disagreements.”
I tilted my head, studying the black, knee-length coat he wore. “Have you and Monty had any ‘disagreements’ lately?” Perhaps about dating his ex-wife, I thought.
Kenneth shrugged. “Not really. Although Monty sure had some choice words for me this morning. I calmly reassured him that I would finish all my deliveries on time. It’s a shame that was our last interaction—I’ve known him for more than ten years.”
Police cars charged down Orchard Road, coming to a stop directly in front of the butcher shop. Officers spilled out onto the sidewalk, followed by Detective Roy Sanders, with his steady gait and bushy, gray eyebrows furrowed deeply.
I hurried over to him. “I hope you have your handcuffs ready. One of these delivery drivers is lying, and I know exactly which one.”
How did Hadley know which delivery driver was lying? (Scroll down for the answer!)
Story Copyright 2024 by Emily Oberton
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Answer: Hadley knew Cara was lying when she denied killing her ex-husband. Despite claiming that she couldn’t handle violence or bloodshed, Cara seemed all too familiar with the details of Monty’s gruesome murder, even though Joy never revealed this information to her.
Want to dive into a longer cozy mystery? Follow Hadley on all of her adventures in the small town of Darlington Hills! Get started today with the first book in the series, Lemon Yellow Lies.
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