Shredding the Evidence (A Cookbook Nook Mystery 9) Page 10

  Gran raised her hand. “Do you do all the prep yourself at your restaurant, Midge?”

  “No. Like Katie, I have a number of helpers.”

  “I don’t have any helpers at home,” a redhead in the audience said.

  “Neither do I,” Midge declared. “And I wouldn’t want any in my personal kitchen. That way, I can make something in my own time, my own way. Don’t you agree, Katie?”

  “I sure do. One more thing . . .” Katie stopped slicing. “I like to set out an array of spices ahead of time. I place the jars on the counter so the flavors are readily available.” She fetched containers of cinnamon, thyme, basil, and rosemary from the cabinet at the back of the mobile cart and placed them by the cut vegetables. “Seasonings are the spice of life,” she crooned, and laughed at her own joke.

  As Katie and Midge continued to banter, a feeling of dread washed over me. Katie was such a natural in front of a crowd that I feared, if I weren’t careful, Midge might ask her to join her on her cooking show. If she did, would Katie quit the Nook Café? No way. Katie made a lot of money as the Nook’s chef, and the minor partnership in the shop had to count for something, didn’t it? On the other hand, fame could go to one’s head. I hoped having a ten-month-old girl would ground her.

  “Time for pizza!” Midge shouted halfway through the presentation. “We all love cheese, right? The more the merrier.”

  Katie said, “As long as you can eat dairy.”

  “They make some wonderful lactose-free cheeses now,” Midge countered. “There is a provolone to die for,” she said, and then balked. She shot a look at me and mouthed, Sorry.

  I offered a supportive smile. Certain indelicate phrases were bound to spill from a person’s lips following a murder. It couldn’t be helped.

  When the duo finished the demonstration, showing off the minced onion appetizers, shredded chicken and vegetable salad, and the thin-crust pizza with grilled julienned zucchini, Gran bounded to her feet and applauded like a true fan. The rest of the audience followed suit.

  Katie motioned to Midge, who bowed. “Thank you, Midge, for making this so easy.”

  “My pleasure.”

  “And don’t forget to buy one of Midge’s cookbooks,” Katie said.

  A few audience members raised their purchases.

  “Also, Katie has been a doll,” Midge said. “She made recipe cards for the shredded chicken salad, plus she created cellophane packets of the exact spices she used in it. You can’t mess up.” Midge held up a card and packet. “You’ll find them on the tasting table in the breezeway, where we’ve set samples of what we’ve cooked today. So don’t be shy. Have a taste and take a card.”

  More applause.

  Aunt Vera said, “Midge will be signing her cookbook over there”—she indicated the vintage table—“if you’d form a line.”

  Before Midge moved to the table, she took a sip of water from a glass Gran provided and then pulled a lipstick from her jeans’ pocket. As she started to apply it, I realized it wasn’t a lipstick. It was a lip balm, exactly like the one found in Tito’s jacket—yellow tube, pink top.

  My heart did a hiccup.

  • • •

  Late in the afternoon, after the hubbub of the day’s event had waned, I was in dire need of fresh air, a double-shot espresso, and a nutmeg cookie, not necessarily in that order. My energy was flagging, and worry was gnawing my insides to a pulp. Bailey hadn’t touched base to tell me how the appointment with the attorney had gone.

  I advised my aunt of my plan and headed out. A few street vendors were selling their wares along Buena Vista Boulevard. I had no doubt more would show by the time the evening diners were strolling the street.

  Latte Luck Café was bustling as I entered. All of the wooden tables were filled. The brown leather booths were, too. The enticing aroma of sugar and spice hung in the air. Many of the people standing in line were pointing at the sepia pictures of Crystal Cove in the early nineteenth century that hung on the walls. I took up the rear and peered over shoulders, hoping to spy Savannah beyond the counter. She was the one who made my beloved nutmeg cookies. I didn’t see her.

  When I arrived at the order area, I asked the freckle-faced young man if Savannah was in.

  “Nope,” he said. “Not today or yesterday.”

  “Is she sick?” I asked.

  “Yep. Migraine, I think. You want to talk to her mom?” He hitched his chin at Shari, who was icing a cake. Clad in her pink-striped apron, her hair tucked beneath a pink-striped cap, she reminded me of a peppermint stick.

  Shari nodded a hello. “Something wrong, Jenna?” She always had a warm smile.

  “I was hoping to buy a nutmeg cookie.”

  “We’re out. Savannah’s been a bit under the weather. Order a cinnamon roll.” Shari hoisted her piping bag. “I know you love those. I made the last batch of the day minutes ago. I’ll add extra icing.”

  “That’s okay. I’ll settle for a double-espresso and some coconut macaroons for tonight’s dessert.”

  “Suit yourself.”

  As I waited for the young man to fill my order, I considered Savannah’s absence. Had her headache started Thursday night after her peeve with Kylie? Had she lurked outside Kylie’s house all night and followed her yesterday morning to Your Wellness? Given the women’s past friendship, Savannah might have learned the entry code to the fitness studio from Kylie. Maybe after Kylie sneaked inside, Savannah—

  “Jenna,” a woman called.

  I spied Harmony Bold sitting at one of the booths, dressed more casually than when we’d met yesterday, her long hair knotted in a messy bun. She hailed me and set her cell phone aside.

  I paid for my order, took my coffee and goodie bag from the clerk, and settled opposite my wedding planner in the booth. “I didn’t know you frequented this place.”

  “I had to check on the family businesses seeing as . . .” Harmony frowned and glanced out the big bay window. “Seeing as a murder happened on the second floor.”

  I followed her gaze. “I thought the Boldines owned the building.”

  “They do. I’m a Boldine. I shortened my last name to Bold for business purposes. After all, a wedding planner must be bold, don’t you think?” She winked at me.

  “Why are all the shops closed?” I put the bag with the treats on the seat beside me.

  “Since Mom and Dad went on a long-awaited cruise, my sister and brother decided it was time to hightail it out of town, too. Neither of them are foodies. Both suffer from severe allergies. I seemed to have dodged that bullet.”

  “You didn’t want to join them in a retail business venture?”

  “Ack. Me and steady hours?” Harmony swiped the air. “Like oil and water. But I sure do appreciate utilizing their expertise when it comes to my business. What wedding planner can’t avail herself of a jeweler, a florist, and a crystal and china shop?” She laughed. “By the way, my sister, the florist, knows everyone in the flower business. One of her best friends operates out of Napa. It’s going to be a cinch for your wedding.”

  “Small world.”

  “Indeed.” Harmony sipped from her to-go cup. “Best latte in the world. I get two every day, much to the chagrin of my pocketbook. One at ten and another in the late afternoon. I can’t make coffee to save my life.” She popped the lid on her latte, added a packet of sugar, swirled it in using a wooden coffee stirrer, and reapplied the lid. “Geez, I’m sorry. Listen to me prattling, being totally insensitive.” She set the stir stick on a napkin. “How are you? I heard that you found . . . Kylie O.”

  “Yes. Actually, Alexa, Bailey, and I did.” I took a sip of my espresso.

  “I can’t imagine seeing a dead body. Was it horrible?”

  I nodded, the image flicking at the back of my mind.

  “The police contacted my parents right away,” Harmony said. “They needed to know my family’s whereabouts.”

  “My best friend’s husband is the main suspect.”

  “Tito
Martinez?” Harmony asked. “He’s a good guy.”

  “I agree.”

  Harmony nudged her coffee to the side and folded her arms on the table. “I was here yesterday morning. I didn’t see Tito, and I didn’t see Kylie. I’m not sure what I would’ve done had I seen either of them. I didn’t know they had a feud going.”

  “They don’t. Didn’t,” I corrected. “Kylie wasn’t upset with Tito, and he wasn’t mad at her, either. He didn’t kill her.” I glanced across the street and, due to the conversation with my aunt and Gran earlier, noticed something I hadn’t on Friday. “I see spotlights to illuminate your family’s building, but I don’t see any security cameras.”

  “That’s right. My mother doesn’t believe in them. Dad wanted to install them, but Mom wouldn’t let him. She believes in the kindness of humanity.” Harmony winced. “With the murder, of course, that’s going to change. They’ve already ordered an installation for Monday. You know”—she tapped the table—“maybe Midge Martin saw something.”

  “Midge?”

  “When I was having my first coffee, I saw her peering through the windows. She might have had business with my mother. She buys a lot of jewelry at the shop.”

  I sat taller and peered again at the Boldine Building. Kylie had accused Midge Martin of forging a recipe. Midge had been lurking around the exact location where Kylie had met her doom. And Midge had an exact replica of the lip balm used at the crime scene.

  What were the odds?

  Chapter 10

  I returned to the shop, wondering whether Cinnamon would welcome my theories about Midge. There were two customers. Gran was seeing to them. As I strode toward the stockroom to call the precinct, Deputy Appleby and his daughter, Sasha, nearly ran me over as they passed through the arch from the breezeway. My aunt trailed them, worrying her phoenix amulet.

  “Honestly, Dad?” Sasha dodged me without offering an apology. Like the deputy, she was a big woman with a prominent moose-like jaw. That didn’t sound like much of a compliment for a lady, but she was handsome in a wholesome way and usually glowing. Not today, however. She was scowling at her father. “You know Steven and I don’t begrudge you and Vera having a relationship.” Sasha didn’t appear to have an inside voice. “I never—”

  “Begrudge?” Appleby said sharply. He set a doggie bag from the café on the vintage table and folded his arms across his massive chest. “You and your brother don’t get to begrudge me anything.”

  Sasha sighed. “You know that’s not what I—”

  “I make my choices,” Appleby retorted.

  “Okay, fine, but”—Sasha shot a hand between my aunt and the deputy—“why do you have to get engaged? It’s not like you’re going to have children.”

  Engaged? I gulped. News to me. Gran threw me a questioning look. I shrugged: Got me.

  “Vera and I want to be in a committed relationship,” Appleby stated. “We’re old-fashioned that way.”

  “Antediluvian,” Sasha muttered.

  “Mind your manners,” Appleby warned.

  “It was Steven’s word,” Sasha said. “Will you sell your house? Will you pool finances? It’s not like you bring anything to the marriage cash-wise, Dad.”

  Appleby blanched. “Do not get cheeky with me, young lady. We will not discuss finances here. Besides, Vera knows exactly what I’m worth.”

  “All the tea in China,” Aunt Vera joked. “Yin to my yang. I’m blessed that he’s in my life.” She blew a kiss to Appleby and then addressed Sasha. “Dear”—she clutched Sasha’s forearm—“up until today’s announcement . . .” My aunt paused. Given the way she was gazing at Sasha, I wondered whether she was trying to telepathically influence her. Perhaps she hoped heaping spiritual blessings on Sasha would erase Sasha’s negativity and open her heart. “Up until now”—Aunt Vera began again—“you and I have gotten along very well.”

  Except for when Sasha hadn’t allowed my aunt to hold her baby the other day, I mused. Harrumph and hogwash, as my grandfather used to say.

  “Let’s sit for a moment,” Aunt Vera suggested. “Maybe I could give you a tarot reading. I know you appreciate a good reading.”

  “Who told you that?” Sasha shot her father a scathing look. “That was a secret, Dad.”

  Appleby held up both hands. “I didn’t say a thing. Vera is intuitive.”

  Vera chuckled warm and low. “Sasha, dear, a fellow tarot reader let the cat out of the bag, not your father. Please, let me do it this once. Perhaps the reading will ease your mind about your father and me. We’re in love. We’re planning a long future. I’d like you to be happy for us.”

  My aunt reached for Sasha’s hand. As if in a trance, Sasha raised her arm. Submissively, she allowed my aunt to guide her into a chair. Then Aunt Vera pulled a packet of tarot from the pocket of her caftan and handed it to Sasha.

  “Shuffle the cards, dear. Feel their power.” Aunt Vera hitched her chin at Appleby, shooing him away.

  He strode to me, looking sheepish. “Sorry you had to witness that.”

  “Emotions run deep,” I said in commiseration, and then shook his hand. “Congratulations.” Even though I didn’t wholeheartedly agree that they needed to get married. Why do it? Everyone knew my aunt and Appleby were devoted to one another for life. A ceremony wasn’t going to change that. Maybe I was underrating the value of whatever memories came with the tradition. I added, “I hope your son will come on board.”

  “He’s fine with everything,” Appleby said, but his face belied his calm.

  “I heard Sasha. Steven is definitely not on board.”

  “I’ll convince him.”

  Ha! I imagined arm wrestling might be in their future.

  I turned my attention to the tarot reading. The card that my aunt had already placed on the table was the Fool. It represented new beginnings and having faith in the future and was considered a positive card. I presumed the card signified my aunt and the deputy and their future together, but then she revealed the second card—the Empress, a beautiful card with a full-figured blonde who possessed a peaceful aura. It was reversed, meaning it was turned upside down. Though traditionally the Empress would represent abundance and power and the creation of life or the start of a new family, when reversed the card held a different meaning. It still indicated feminine power, but it also suggested that the person receiving the reading needed to get in touch with the love that flowed within. Not my aunt. Not Appleby.

  My aunt gazed at Sasha. Although she spoke softly, I heard the question she asked. “Are you pregnant with another child, dear?”

  Sasha nodded ever so slightly.

  “That would explain why you’re so protective of your little one as well as your father.” Aunt Vera squeezed Sasha’s hand. “I promise you that I will not come between you and him or the children. He will be here to give you and them all the support you need. Do not worry.”

  Aunt Vera ran her index finger across Sasha’s tight forehead. Sasha didn’t recoil. She leaned into my aunt’s touch, and I felt relieved. The two were bonding yet again.

  Appleby looked pleased.

  “Jenna!” Keller raced into the shop and made a beeline for me. His white overalls were splattered with eggshell-white paint as well as dirt. A few leaves stuck to the seams. “So glad I found you.”

  Where else would I be? I thought, and then realized that, indeed, I had been out and about over the past few days. I didn’t maintain an eight a.m. to six p.m. regimen in the shop, thanks to having terrific assistants.

  “What’s up?” I asked.

  “The skylight in the master might leak with the next rain.”

  “Oh, not good.”

  “Nope, not good at all. I found a discolored patch on the hardwood floor as I was setting out my tarp.”

  “I’ve never seen a discolored patch,” I said.

  “It was under the area rug.”

  The blue-themed area rug had belonged to the previous owner. We hadn’t replaced the flooring in the mast
er yet. It was on the to-do list.

  Keller jutted a hip. “You had a house inspection before you took occupancy, didn’t you?”

  I shook my head. My aunt, who had known the previous owner quite well, had paid all cash. Having seen regular work done on the house, Aunt Vera had trusted that everything was in tiptop shape. Oops. Trust. What an iffy and intangible thing.

  “Well, I took a peek at the skylight,” Keller said.

  “How did you get up there? I don’t have a ladder.”

  “I’ve got one on the truck, but I didn’t need one. I climbed the tree in the backyard to access the roof. I love to climb. Climbing lets you reach for the sky. Expand your horizons. Think of possibilities.”

  I smiled. Keller could wander during any conversation.

  “The skylight,” I said, redirecting him.

  “Right. You’d be wise to get a whole house inspection. You can purchase a home warranty, too, for all the new as well as the old appliances, the water heater, yada-yada.” He placed his hands on his hips. “It’s worth it, if you ask me. Houses are big investments. Costs can come out of the woodwork.” He squinted toward the breezeway. “Okay, that’s it. Think I’ll say hello to my bride before heading back to work.”

  With no hesitation, he strode toward the café.

  My aunt joined me. “I heard all that. I’m sorry. I should have—”

  I stroked her forearm. “It’s fine. Rhett and I need to pay more attention and plan for any unexpected events.” I kissed her cheek. “I’m glad you and Sasha got things resolved.”

  “Me, too, however, for some reason . . .” Aunt Vera frowned. “I can’t put my finger on it, but I still feel like a storm is brewing.”

  • • •

  Late in the afternoon, I finally found time to call Cinnamon. I reached her voice mail, so I left her a message outlining my concerns about Midge Martin. If she was considering Midge a suspect, then a witness seeing Midge outside the Boldine Building on the morning Kylie was murdered had merit.

  After closing the shop, I took Tigger home and dressed for my outing on the Pier.