Caught Bread Handed (5 page)

“No, I'll do it. It looks like you've already started on the muffins. Just keep working on those and I'll be back in a few.” I boxed the warm bread. It smelled so good that it was all I could do not to rip a hunk off the end of a loaf of sourdough.

“Do you have any specific flavors you want me to do?” Stephanie asked.

To simplify things Mom and I use the same batter recipe for our cookies and muffins. Each batter begins with the basic building blocks—butter, sugar, eggs, and flour. From there we can enhance the flavor by adding chocolate, sour cream, citrus, vanilla, berries, nuts, and so much more.

“Why don't you do chocolate sour cream and a berry streusel?” I had taught Stephanie the art of creating a balanced flavor profile. The key is in proportions. Since the cocoa would dry out the batter we incorporated sour cream to ensure that the muffins came out moist. The sour cream would also offer a hint of tang to cut the bitterness of the chocolate. The berries would have the opposite effect. As the muffins baked, the juices from the fresh berries would saturate the batter. Adding streusel would give the muffins some density and a nice crunch to balance the juicy berries.

“You remember the proportions?” I asked.

Stephanie nodded. “Yep. Two parts chocolate to one part sour cream, right?”

“Exactly.” I untied my apron and placed it on the counter. “I'll be back in twenty or thirty minutes. Mom and Andy should be here soon. If you finish the muffins before I'm back go ahead and start on the cookie dough.”

I picked up the large cardboard box. The sky had turned a light shade of purple as I opened the front door. While the sun might be making a slow and steady rise, nighttime temperatures in Southern Oregon were still bitterly cold. I placed the box on the front counter and ran to grab my vest. The deliveries wouldn't take me long, but there was no reason to freeze in the process.

My first stop was the Green Goblin, a bar at the far end of the plaza across from Lithia Park. The Green Goblin is known for its strong and unique cocktails. Their signature cocktail, the green goblin, was an avocado daiquiri blended with lime and mint. Food wasn't their forte, but they did serve meat and cheese plates to help customers soak up the rum in their daiquiris. They'd been using our bread for a couple of months now and had received rave reviews from customers.

After a short walk I arrived at the bar and tapped on the front window. I could see Craig, the owner and bartender, inside. He waved and came to unlock the front door. It's no surprise that tourists flock to the Green Goblin since the design inside is like stepping into a wooded forest. Ten-foot fake trees guard each wall, their branches stretching to the ceiling where they weave together, creating a green canopy overhead. Figurines of goblins, fairies, and elves hang from the branches. An iron candelabra is the main source of light for the dark, romantic bar. The tables and bar that runs the length of the narrow room are all carved to look like tree stumps with ivy snaking up the sides.

“Morning, Jules.” Craig greeted me by taking the box from my arms and placing it on an empty table.

“You're here early, Craig. I was surprised to see you on the morning delivery list.”

“I'm hosting a mimosa party for the art council this morning.”

“That would explain the sweet bread.” I pointed to the box of warm bread. It smelled so good my stomach rumbled in response. Maybe I should have grabbed something to eat.

“Yeah. You know me—my talent is behind the bar. I got some fresh fruit and cheese to go with your bread. Hopefully they'll drink enough mimosas not to notice my appalling lack of talent with food.” He flicked a bright green bottle opener in one hand.

“That sounds perfect.”

“You're too nice, Jules.”

I smiled. “Not according to my kitchen staff. I don't think Stephanie appreciates the early morning shift.”

“Tell her I feel her pain. I didn't get out of here until after midnight last night. I don't know how you do these kinds of hours. If it wasn't the off season I would have sent the mimosa party somewhere else, but you know how it is right now—I take business anywhere I can get it.”

“It's so true. Hey, speaking of business, were you at the meeting that Rosalind called last night?”

He shook his head. “No. Friday is our busy night. I was behind the bar doing my thing. I hear I missed a good one. Everyone was talking about the showdown between Rosalind and Mindy.”

“I snuck out early to go to bed,” I confessed. “It was starting to get pretty heated before I left. Rosalind made it clear that chains are not welcome downtown.”

“Can you blame her? ShakesBurgers is so out of place. I had to run off a couple of young actors wearing ridiculous ShakesBurgers costumes. They kept accosting my customers with free burger coupons yesterday.” He pulled a rag from his belt loop and dusted the table.

“That rumor is true?”

“What do you mean?”

“Rosalind said something about Mindy hiring actors to advertise around town.”

“Yep. She did. They were loitering around the front door. No one could come in or leave without having a coupon thrust at them. I finally had enough and told them to go find some other place to hang out.” Craig took the paper bag labeled Green Goblin from the box and walked it over to the bar. “It sounds like you should have stayed. I heard that there was a fight. I didn't get the details but everyone was buzzing about it.”

“What?” I followed him. The aroma of the bread wafted toward my nose as Craig opened the bag and removed the golden loaves.

Craig placed the sweet bread on a cutting board. “That's the word.”

“You mean like a physical fight?”

“That's what it sounded like to me. I wasn't there and you know once people get a drink or two in them their stories tend to become a little more far-fetched.”

“With who?”

“Not sure. Someone mentioned Alan. Can you image?” He lined up six bottles of champagne on the bar. “You in the mood for a morning mimosa?”

I declined. “Too early for me. I should get going anyway. People get kind of crazy for their bread.” I tried to wink, but I've never been able to master the move. It ends up looking like I'm contorting my face in a funky way.

Craig laughed. “I'm one of them. Torte's stuff is so good. I can see why demand is high. I'm glad we got in when we did. You're probably going to have to start turning orders down.”

“Now that would be a great problem to have. Although you're half right. I'd love to do even more wholesale work but we just don't have the space right now.”

“Space in the plaza is always an issue. There isn't much of it.” He poured orange juice into one of the champagne flutes. “Hey, before you go I have a proposition for you.”

“Okay.” I waited for him to continue.

“Would you be up for creating a dessert-and-drink pairing? I'd love to add a dessert to the menu. I think it would be an easy sell to the late-night crowd. A nightcap and a hit of sugar before last call when I have to send them packing.”

“Sure. That's a great idea. Let me sketch out a few ideas that will hold up well, especially if we deliver them late in the morning with your regular bread order. If you want I can bring over some samples for you to taste later.”

Craig gave me a thumbs-up. “Bring over
anything
you want me to taste. I'm your guy.”

I picked up the delivery box and walked to the door. “See you later today,” I called as I went back outside into the cold. My mind was already creating flavor combinations for Craig. It was relationships like this that make Ashland an ideal place to live and work.

The next few deliveries were nearby. I dropped off each one with a quick chat with the business owners. Everyone was talking about last night's meeting. Rosalind was not alone in her quest. Every store owner I delivered to had already signed her petition. And in an act of solidarity everyone was wearing black SOS T-shirts.

I felt torn as I finished my last delivery and started back to Torte. I didn't want our downtown community to turn into a hub for big-box stores and retail chains, but running Mindy out of town didn't seem like the solution either. There had to be some kind of compromise.

ShakesBurgers does look completely out of place with its glaring neon signs and posters plastering its front windows, I thought as I neared the green building. It sat between the Merry Windsor, Richard Lord's Shakespearean-themed hotel, and Prospero, a magic and costume shop named after the magician from
The Tempest.
Both businesses met Rosalind's standards for downtown. If it weren't for a satellite dish on the Merry Windsor's roof, it would have been easy to believe that Shakespeare could have been a guest in the hotel, with its historic white plaster walls and ornate stained-glass windows. Prospero had a similar Old-English vibe, with a brick face and intricate ironwork.

ShakesBurgers, on the other hand, looked as if it belong on the party deck of the cruise line. An assault of flashing neon bombarded me as I neared the fast-food chain. Posters of greasy cheeseburgers and fries with pricing were strategically placed in the front windows. To my surprise the front door was propped open. Maybe Mindy was up early to plan her counterattack, I thought as I stepped closer and peered inside.

“Hello?” I called.

No one responded.

I knocked again and stepped inside. The interior was equally as gaudy as the exterior of the building. The neon green-and-orange color scheme extended from the floor to the ceiling. There were cardboard cutouts of the ShakesBurgers mascots near the counter, plastic tables, and neon signage on every wall. My eyes couldn't focus.

“Hello, Mindy?” I called again.

Something crashed to my left. I spun my head in the direction of the sound. I knew immediately why there was no response. Mindy was lying on the floor. Blood pooled in dark circles around both of her wrists.

I dropped the box and screamed.

Mathew, her business partner, ducked behind the counter. His hands were covered in blood. He flinched and caught my eye.

“What are you doing?” My voice sounded distant, like it wasn't coming from my body.

“Trying to find something to stop the bleeding.” Mathew wiped a bloody hand on his green ShakesBurgers T-shirt.

“Is she…” I couldn't bring myself to say the word
dead.
My feet moved like lead as I backed out the door one step at a time.

Mathew jumped over the counter. “Where are you going? Call 911!”

 

Chapter Four

I clutched the door frame. My heartbeat pounded in my head. I thought I might be sick. There was so much blood.

I grabbed the side of the building to steady myself. Was my mind playing tricks on me?

Mathew ran toward me. “Call 911!” Blood dripped from his hands.

I froze.

He clapped twice. Blood splattered onto the sidewalk. “CALL 911!”

I fumbled in my vest pocket and found my phone. I kept my eyes focused on Mathew while I punched the buttons for an emergency call. The operator picked up on the first ring. He asked me questions that I couldn't answer. I tried to hand the phone to Mathew.

Mathew held out his hands. “I can't talk like this.”

I hit the speaker button. The operator asked Mathew how long he'd been on the scene and the status of the victim. Mathew kept looking down at his hands as he paced back and forth in front of ShakesBurgers. “I don't know, maybe five minutes. I tried CPR. Then I went to find something to stop the bleeding. I can't believe Mindy would do something like this to herself.”

I paced with him, stepping carefully to avoid the drops of blood that splattered on the sidewalk as he paced.

The operator tried to keep him calm. “Did you check for a pulse? Is the victim breathing?”

Mathew pounded his fist against the window. It left a red splotch. “She's dead. She doesn't have a pulse. And she's definitely not breathing. She was dead when I got here.”

I continued to hold the phone, trying to keep my hands steady while the operator walked Mathew through a series of questions. In the distance the sound of a siren wailed.

The police would be here soon. I wondered if Thomas, my friend and old high school boyfriend, was on duty this morning. I hadn't seen him since Lake of the Woods. Thomas was Ashland's deputy in training. He had been working as the Professor's assistant and taking on more responsibilities around town. The Professor was Ashland's lead detective and Mom's boyfriend. Things had been strained between us when Thomas accused Carlos of murder at the high alpine lodge. I knew that he was trying to do his job, but I also had a feeling that part of his focus on Carlos had to do with our past.

Red-and-blue police lights cut through the purplish sky. An ambulance sped to a stop in front of us. Before I could even process what was happening, two EMS workers hopped out and raced inside. The operator told us we could hang up now. I clicked off my phone and shoved it back in my pocket.

Mathew dropped to his knees. “I can't believe she would do this. How could she do this to me? To herself? I know that she was stressed, but I never thought that she would do something like this.”

“You think she killed herself?” I asked.

He glanced at the window behind him. “You think someone else slashed her wrists? Yeah. She killed herself.” He looked at his bloody hands.

I couldn't believe it. Mindy had seemed so confident and focused last night. What had changed?

A police car zoomed up to the curb. Thomas got out of the passenger side. The Professor stepped out of the driver's side. I released the oxygen trapped in my lungs. I hadn't even realized that I'd been holding my breath.

“Juliet?” The Professor strolled over to me. He looked nothing like a detective in his jeans, tweed jacket, and wool scarf. “Pray tell, what are you doing here?” In addition to his duties as Ashland's only detective, the Professor was our resident Shakespeare enthusiast. He dabbled in community theater and lectured on the Bard's work. Mom and the Professor had been friends for years. Since I'd been home their friendship had blossomed into a full-fledged romance. I was thrilled to see Mom happy again.