A Soufflé of Suspicion Read online

  Seeing the seeds made me recall my conversation with Raymond when he had warned that cats could get sick by ingesting a number of garden plants. That memory brought another discussion to mind, when I’d been seven and walking through the family vineyard with my grandmother. She had told me how toxic wisteria was. At the time, it was growing at the ends of the rows of grapes to keep birds and pests away. The seeds were lethal, she’d said. If eaten, they would cause nausea, dizziness, and worse.

  Felicity tried to gather her things.

  I nabbed the packet of seeds before she could and flaunted them in her face. “Why do you have these?”

  “I’ve been planting. I told you how wonderful my garden is.”

  “You poisoned me.”

  “What on earth are you talking about?”

  “You put these seeds in my soda at Chocolate.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous.”

  “You pushed sweetener packets off the table, and as I bent to fetch the packets, you dosed my drink.”

  “You’re insane.”

  “You’ve been going after me ever since I asked you whether Parker was having an affair with Renee.”

  Parker shouted, “I was not!”

  “I told her you weren’t,” Felicity huffed.

  “That’s true,” I said. “You did. But immediately following that, you divulged your alibi. Why? I hadn’t asked for it. I had no reason to. You had no motive to kill Renee.” I splayed a hand. “But you were feeling guilty, weren’t you? When we met at Chocolate, you tried to make me think Allie had killed Renee. You said she had a past.”

  “I didn’t kill her,” Allie said.

  Heather put a comforting arm around her shoulder. “Shh.”

  “On Tuesday night, Felicity, you came by my place,” I said. “You were worried that I’d remember your exchange with Renee at the festival, put two and two together, and realize why you’d want her dead.”

  “Get real.”

  “You didn’t knock. You didn’t confront me. Maybe you had second thoughts and that’s why you retreated through the vineyard.”

  “I have no idea where you live. I couldn’t find your cottage if you drew me a map.”

  “And yet you know I live in a cottage.”

  Felicity sniffed.

  “The other day,” I went on, “after you won your semifinal, someone wearing tan clothing hurled a large flowerpot over the railing and nearly hit me. I think, after revealing your alibi to me, you were terrified that I might figure out the truth, so you put on Oscar’s jacket and stole to the balcony above where Jo and I were chatting.”

  “You’re nuts.” She faced the others. “I went straight to the theater that day.”

  “No, you didn’t.”

  “Yes, I—”

  “A friend saw you at the souvenir tent buying T-shirts.”

  She sputtered.

  “You tried to poison me at Chocolate because you missed hitting me with the flowerpot.”

  “I didn’t mean to poison you at all. I—” She clapped a hand over her mouth.

  Chapter 26

  Everyone on the patio went quiet.

  “Who did you mean to poison, Felicity?” I asked. “Your husband?”

  She cut a look in his direction.

  “You were hovering outside Chocolate when I arrived,” I said. “Were you spying on him? Did you think he was meeting Louvain?”

  “I…” She worked her upper lip between her teeth. “I wanted to make him sick. I wanted him to need me to nurse him back to health. I’ve always been the one to look after him.”

  “Did you put seeds in his mug?”

  “Yes, but he didn’t drink a drop of his coffee. He left, and I…” She moaned. “I still had some in my hands.” She splayed her hands as if showing me the offending seeds. “I had to get rid of them. I didn’t mean to hurt you. Yes, I wanted to scare you. I thought you’d stop asking questions if you believed you were in danger.”

  “Is that why you broke into my cottage and left sprigs of wisteria on my bedside table, as a follow-up warning?”

  “Ooh,” she moaned as an admission and covered her face with both hands.

  The door to the patio squeaked open. Jo raced in.

  “Where’s Tyson?” I asked.

  “A minute away. Why is Felicity crying?”

  “I think she wants to confess to killing Renee.”

  “What?” Felicity dropped her hands. Her eyes were dry. “No!”

  I quickly told Jo my theory about Felicity skimming from the education funds and Renee finding out and holding it over Felicity. Pretending to be Parker, Felicity had gone to Camille’s neighborhood so she could confront Renee.

  “That’s all I did,” Felicity cut in. “Confront her.”

  “But Renee was defiant, wasn’t she?” I said, baiting her.

  “Yes.”

  “Uppity.”

  “Yes. Yes. That’s it! Oh, Mimi, you understand. She told me how she was going to destroy my husband.” She glanced at Parker, pleading with her eyes. “I couldn’t let her do that, darling. I love you so much.” She lowered her chin. Her lower lip started to quiver. “So much.”

  Was her daughter this good an actress? I wondered. “Did Renee blackmail you?” I asked.

  “She railed at me and called me names. Horrible, horrible names.”

  “That’s when you grabbed the mixer,” I said.

  “Yes!”

  “And struck her.”

  Felicity inhaled and held her breath.

  At that exact second, Tyson entered the patio and took in the scene. Everyone was staring at Felicity in unabashed shock.

  “What’s going on?” Tyson asked.

  Jo slipped her hand around his elbow and whispered what had transpired. After a long moment, Tyson hissed through his nose. “Mrs. Price, I’m afraid I’ll need you to come to the station with me.”

  “But it was self-defense,” she cried. “Any judge in America will realize that.”

  Parker scoffed. “You don’t murder someone for calling you names, Felicity. Otherwise, I’d have done you in years ago.”

  Tyson recited Felicity’s Miranda rights. When he finished, I mentioned the confetti and the infinity drawing in the flour. He murmured that he’d get to me in the next day or two, and then he escorted Felicity out of the bistro. Parker, who looked shaken by the ordeal, went with them.

  Given the circumstances, Allie, who was officially in charge of the festival until Rusty was released from the hospital, announced that the best way to end the festival competition was to declare it a tie. She contacted Bebe by telephone and informed her. Supposedly, Bebe was delighted to learn she was a co-winner, though I’d have wagered she would continue to assert that her soufflé would have won the competition hands down. Louvain, with her humiliated husband in tow, clutched her sister’s hand and disappeared from the bistro. I imagined she would touch base with Parker after an appropriate amount of time had passed.

  Allie also took it upon herself to arrange Renee’s memorial. She said it was the least she could do for Rusty. She corralled Heather and Jo and steered the two of them to the hostess podium so they could pin down the best day for it.

  After the rest of the contestants and guests departed and Allie left to take command of the festival’s closing ceremony, we set up the bistro for dinner. Camille and I worked side by side in the kitchen. Although she was thrilled to know the truth, she was glum. She promised she would rally.

  When we closed for the night, the staff pleaded with Camille and me to party with them. They were going to the jazz club down the street. Stefan and Yukiko were leading the pack and walking hand in hand. Camille said no; she was exhausted. I begged off, too, and headed home.

  The moment I entered the cottage, with Scoundrel and Scooter trailing me inside, my cell phone rang. It was Nash. He asked if he could come over. He’d heard what had happened with Felicity and needed to see me.

  When he arrived, looking delicious in a crea
m camp shirt and coffee-colored corduroy trousers, I threw my arms around his neck and drank in his musky scent.

  As I was ushering him inside, Raymond showed up in a beekeeper’s-type outfit. He rapped on the doorjamb. “Is everything okay, Mimi?” He trained the beam from his flashlight at Nash. “Is this guy bothering you?”

  Nash said, “Very funny.”

  Raymond grinned, pleased with himself.

  “I’m safe,” I said. “Go deal with the bees.”

  “Wasps,” he corrected. “And I’m done for the night. It’s time for a beer, a pizza, and some ESPN.” He gave me a small salute and headed off, the glow of his flashlight lighting the path.

  I led Nash inside. He encircled me with his arms and drew me to him. For a long while, he just held me and stroked my back in a soothing rhythm. After a long moment, our mouths met. We kissed for a very long time.

  When we came up for air, he said, “Wow. Was it something I said?”

  “It’s your cologne.”

  “Soap?”

  “That’s the ticket. And the hug. The hug was … incredible.”

  He caressed my hair and kissed my forehead. “You’re okay?”

  “Never better, now that you’re here.”

  He surveyed the living room. “You wiped off the dry-erase board.”

  I nodded. “Case closed.”

  “Care to give me a recap?”

  I took his hand and ushered him to the sofa. “Let me pour you a glass of wine. This might take time to explain. Maybe all night.”

  “I’m game.” He offered a sexy grin.

  * * *

  On Tuesday afternoon, Camille and my mother showed up on my doorstep. My mother was wearing one of her Bohemian outfits. Camille was dressed in clothes I’d never seen her wearing—jeans and a plaid shirt.

  “Camille invited me to lunch at her house as a thank you for my hospitality and, well,”—my mother pushed past me into the cottage—“there’s something you need to see.”

  She stopped short when she caught sight of Nash sitting on the sofa.

  Camille bumped into her. “Oh, my.”

  “We’re sorry to intrude,” my mother said. “We had no idea. We—”

  “It’s not a problem, Mother. We—”

  “Just returned from hot air ballooning,” Nash said. “It was fabulous.”

  She eyed us knowingly. “Is that why your faces look flushed?”

  That and a little necking, I mused as even more heat rushed into my cheeks.

  The fish tank burped as if Cagney and Lacey meant to give us away.

  I giggled. “What’s up?”

  Camille was holding an envelope in her hand—a mangled cream-colored enveloped. “You will not believe what we have discovered.” She waggled the envelope. “Renee sent this to me.”

  “You showed it to me before.”

  “Yes, but I overlooked something.”

  Scooter and Scoundrel emerged from the bedroom. The excitement in Camille’s voice must have wakened them. In the past few days, they had become couch potatoes. They had even let me—not Heather—feed them. I was getting the hang of it.

  “Look at this.” Camille pulled a sheet of stationery from the envelope. “I did not know this existed until today. I was showing your mother the notecard and the damaged envelope that had come in the postal package, and she discovered this other letter. In my haste—”

  “It had stuck to the folds of the original envelope,” my mother said, reassuring Camille. “They’re the same color, and given the state of the envelope—” My mother waved her hand. “In it, Renee spells out everything that Felicity was doing. It took a full page of stationery, which was why she hadn’t written more on the notecard.”

  “Let me see,” I said.

  Camille handed me the letter. I unfolded it and browsed the first paragraph. Indeed, Renee had laid out every detail of her encounter with Felicity—seeing the accounting books and figuring out that she was skimming.

  “Renee always understood numbers,” Camille said. “She wrote the letter as insurance.”

  I added, “She must have swiped a notecard from Felicity’s collection thinking that would somehow verify her claim.”

  “Oui.” Camille’s voice cracked. “If only she had told me in person.”

  “No doubt she was embarrassed to admit she intended to blackmail Felicity.”

  “But she didn’t,” my mother said. “She didn’t want to blackmail her at all. Read everything, sweetheart. Down to the bottom.”

  Renee continued, explaining how she intended to protect ten percent of the festival’s proceeds that were tagged for the education fund. She warned Felicity to keep her hands out of the till. She didn’t threaten Felicity’s life, and she wasn’t blackmailing her. She wasn’t going to tell the world, either. She simply wanted proceeds for the festival to be on the up-and-up. She hoped the warning would make Felicity rethink her illicit activities and cease and desist.

  I thought about Felicity’s confession. When I’d asked her whether Renee had blackmailed her, she hadn’t said yes. She’d simply tried to build a case of self-defense.

  I put an arm around Camille and gave her a squeeze. “You must feel great.”

  “It exonerates her.” She sniffed. “That is enough.”

  Nash said, “This calls for a celebration. Tea, everyone?” He strolled into the kitchen and fetched a tin of green tea from a cupboard.

  My mother said, “He knows where your tea is?”

  “It’s not like it’s rocket science, Mom. Small kitchen. Four cupboards.”

  “First try.” She bumped me with her hip.

  My cheeks warmed. Nash and I had spent three straight nights together and realized we were both head over heels for each other. As for our future? Oh, yeah, we had discussed that.

  “By the way,” Nash said, “I heard Rusty sold his farm and is going to continue to run the festivals. Are you okay with that, Camille?”

  “Yes, of course. He is innocent. He loved Renee. He wants to do what made her happy.”

  “Allie will be helping out,” I said. “They make a great team.”

  “She is not going to open a bakery?” Camille asked.

  “I think she realized that if she had to, um, borrow recipes, then perhaps it wasn’t the right business for her. Speaking of bakeries, how are things going with you and Donovan?”

  “Very well. He wants to take me fly-fishing.”

  I snickered. I couldn’t picture Camille dressed in waders and knee-high boots. Jo, on the other hand, loved to go fly-fishing.

  “I am open to new experiences,” Camille said. “That is what Renee would want for me. Besides, if I catch enough trout, we could serve trout almandine on the menu.”

  I high-fived her. “That’s the spirit!”

  Someone knocked on my door. I opened it. Jo sauntered inside.

  “Speak of the devil,” I said.

  “I’m the devil?” she joked.

  “I was making a mental note to call you.” I tapped my temple.

  “What’s going on?” She unbuttoned the single button of her blazer and placed one hand on her hip. “Are you having a party and you didn’t invite me?”

  “It’s impromptu,” I said. “Why are you here?”

  Her cheeks were rosy. Her eyes were glittering with excitement. “We did it.”

  “We, who?”

  “Tyson and I.”

  “Did what? You’d better not have eloped. I’ve never been a bridesmaid.”

  She thwacked my arm. “We got engaged.” She flashed her hand at me. The princess-style diamond on her fourth finger glistened.

  “Wow, wow, wow.” I threw my arms around her. “It’s about time. I’m so happy for you. When’s the big day?”

  “I haven’t a clue.”

  My mother said, “Better question: when are you going to start a family?”

  Jo and I exchanged looks and burst into hysterics. When we finally brought ourselves under control, we
sang in unison, “Mom.”

  Recipes Included

  Autumn Quiche (with deep-dish pastry shell recipes, gluten-free and regular)

  Beef Bourguignon

  Brochette d’Agneau à la Grecque (Lamb with Greek sauce)

  Camille’s Special Sauce

  Champignon Parmentier au Gratin (Mushrooms parmentier with cheese)

  Côte de Porc (Pork chops with cornichons)

  Crème Anglaise

  Lobster Bisque

  Porc à l’Orange (Pork in orange sauce)

  Poulet Dijonaise (Chicken with mustard sauce)

  Soufflé à l’Orange

  Soufflé au Chocolat (with brandy sauce)

  Soufflé Salted Caramel

  Vanilla Bean Sugar Cookies (gluten-free and regular)

  Autumn Quiche

  From Mimi:

  One of my favorite dishes is quiche. I can eat it for breakfast, lunch, or dinner. And it’s easy to prepare. There are only a few ingredients in this recipe. I love the combination of ham with pumpkin. So savory. I often premake pie shells and freeze them so I have one on hand. There are also plenty of good pie shells that you can buy at the grocery store if you want this recipe to be, ahem, as “easy as pie.”

  (serves 8)

  3 large eggs

  1 can (15 ounces) solid-pack pumpkin

  1 small can (5 ounces) evaporated milk

  ½ pound ham of your choice, diced fine (you may use Canadian bacon)

  ½ cup finely chopped onion

  ½ cup + 2 tablespoons grated Parmesan cheese

  1 tablespoon cornstarch

  1 teaspoon fresh ground pepper

  1 deep-dish pie shell (may use frozen; use gluten-free if necessary)

  Preheat the oven to 375 degrees F.

  In a large bowl, whisk the eggs, pumpkin, and evaporated milk until blended. Stir in the diced ham and onion.

  In a small bowl, toss the Parmesan cheese with the cornstarch and pepper. Add the cheese mixture to the egg mixture. Stir well.

  Pour the mixture into the pie shell.

  Bake on a lower oven rack for 50–60 minutes or until a toothpick inserted into the center comes out clean.

  Remove from the oven and let stand 15 minutes before serving.