Death at the Day Lily Cafe (12 page)

“You know why.” I crossed my arms and leaned back against the counter. “Doris Bird. She's beside herself with worry for her sister.”

“Tell me something I don't know. Doris has tried to set her sister straight her whole life. But she's a lost cause, and something tells me Doris Bird knows it.” He gathered up a stack of artificial sweetener packets. “You ever know people who just can't help but make bad decisions even if they know it's the devil telling them to do it? Kinda like Judas? That's Lori Fiddler. Delayed gratification. That's what I'm talking about. She doesn't know what it means. She's like a pigeon following a trail of bread crumbs until she realizes she's in the middle of the road. Then bam. Tire hits her.”

“My goodness. You've thought about this before.”

“Look, Hart. You don't know jack. Got it? You're from away. It will take you years to even try to piece any of this together. But a guy like me? I saw it coming.”

“You're right. I don't know. But you sure seem to. Did you go to school together? Is that how you know her so well?”

He pursed his lips, snatched up the bag, and pushed the chair out of his way with a hard squeak. “Leopards don't change their spots.”

I exhaled a sigh. “I guess that's true for you and me, too. Here we are again, arguing about a murder.”

“That ain't happening again. No way, no how.” He picked up his hat. “Once I put this together, Mrs. Fiddler is going to jail. Now, you got that coffee?”

I filled a cup with a steaming Gold Coast blend. “Maybe you're just doing your job, but it almost seems as if you have a vendetta against Lori.” I popped on the top and handed it to him.

“The only vendetta I have is she killed her husband. I think that's reason enough. I'm the sheriff, in case you hadn't noticed. And I don't take kindly to murderers in my town.” He fixed his hat on his head. “Nor do I take kindly to people interfering with police business.”

“She sure is pretty,” I said, and drew a circle on the counter with my index finger. “Has she always been that pretty?”

“Pretty? Maybe you should look a little deeper. You won't like what you see.”

I watched as the sheriff turned and exited the café in six heavy steps.

 

T
WENTY

After accepting a delivery and trying out a few salad recipes for Thursday's lunch, I headed home with the top down. I drove slowly, preoccupied with thoughts about families. They were complicated systems, and one dysfunctional member could have a devastating impact on the rest. I hadn't learned enough about CJ to know what kind of father he had been. And yet Chuck's description of CJ's interaction with Jake and Kevin revealed a high level of intolerance. I wondered if that was how he raised Jamie—kept him on tight reins, no room for uniqueness. What impact would that have on his son?

My thoughts turned to Ed and Annie. He had been expecting her to visit this past weekend. I wondered if he had missed her, made plans that he was forced to cancel. Although Annie might not have realized it yet, the growing distance between them could do harm. I squeezed the steering wheel, wondering if I should call Ed. While raising Annie, I was the one who read the parenting books and advice columns. I consulted with other mothers at play groups and sporting events. I remember sharing my thoughts and ideas with Ed about the best way to raise Annie. And he seemed comfortable with me taking the lead. I certainly never left the discipline to him. It was never
wait until your father gets home
. I wanted Ed's arrival in the evening to be pleasant and warm, something we all looked forward to.

But that had all changed. Although I'd read every book I could find about children and divorce, my attempts to share my newfound knowledge with Ed fell flat. And now it was up to Ed to work out their differences without my intervention. But what about Annie? The divorce was devastating to her. And now she was in a relationship with a deep and guarded young man. Was she drawn to him because he was damaged in some way by his family life? Did Annie see them as kindred spirits, both wounded soldiers?

My divorce took my breath away for many months. It was as if the story of my life had been rewritten. While I had been dreaming of our retirement, Ed was dreaming of a thirty-year-old wispy blonde. And yet my anger with Ed had cooled. I was breathing again and living my life. My new, unexpected life. I had healed in many ways. But had Annie?

I clicked the phone icon on my steering wheel and scrolled down to Ed's number. I listened to one ring tone but quickly ended the call. Give it some time, I thought. Ed will miss Annie on his own. My involvement may cause even more distance. Come on, Ed, you're blowing this.

 

T
WENTY
-
ONE

On Thursday morning the four Day Lily employees held a staff meeting. We were all in uniform, seated at a table as we drank our morning beverages. Custer wore his black bandana around his head and white chef's jacket, and Crystal's customary braid trailed down her back. Glenn was bright eyed and eager to start the weekend.

“First of all, does anyone have any suggestions or comments after last week?” I said.

“I think you should put the egg bake on the regular menu,” Glenn said. “That was very popular.”

I made a note on a yellow legal pad.

Crystal sipped her tea. “And I think we should take turns checking the bathrooms. The ladies room ran out of toilet paper a couple of times.”

“Oh, I had no idea.” I made another note. “Why don't I be in charge of that.” I set the pen down. “Don't forget to suggest iced coffee. On a day like today it could be very popular. And I can make any of our regular coffee drinks over ice.”

“Excellent idea,” Glenn said. “How did things go for you, Custer?”

He spun his mug around. “It would be all right by me if the sheriff didn't come back into the kitchen again.”

“Agreed,” I said. “Okay, so listen to this. Janice suggested I talk to the folks who own the Yellow Labrador, that organic winery the next county over, about supplying us with local wine. And guess what? They have a sparkling wine. So I had a brainstorm.” I looked from face to face. “Ready?”

“What?” Crystal said looking puzzled.

“What do you think about a champagne brunch on Sundays?”

“Only brunch? You mean we wouldn't have to switch from breakfast to the lunch menu?” Custer said. “That works for me.”

“I love it,” Glenn said.

“We would only need to stay open from eight to two, I think. And then maybe we can start opening on Wednesdays. Eventually,” I added. “Not too much change at once.” I checked their reaction.

“Means more money for all of us,” Crystal said. “Especially with alcohol.”

“Agreed. I've also decided to give Custer whatever tips come in at the bar. That okay with all of you?”

Custer looked at me, his mouth open a little.

“Maybe we could have pitchers of Bloody Marys,” I said. “But I'll need a good recipe. Something to make it unique to the Eastern Shore.”

Custer rapped his thumbs on the table. “Old Bay?”

“Oh,” I said. “That's a really good idea.”

“I wholeheartedly agree.” Glenn straightened his posture. “What's our special today?”

“Tomato Benedict. Local ham with a honey mustard hollandaise. I've been working with the bakery on English muffins. These are incredible, if I do say so myself. They're made with buttermilk.”

“Sounds delicious,” Glenn said.

“Good. The sides are smashed potatoes and a romaine salad with—” I stopped when I heard someone in the kitchen. We all looked at the door and in walked Bini.

“We found you some asparagus.” I heard a loud thud behind her, and Tyler appeared through the doorway.

He put his hands on his hips. “There's a lot of asparagus.”

“Really? Oh my goodness. What am I going to do with it all?”

“Uh, serve it?” Bini said.

Glenn looked from me to her, eyebrows dipped as he took it all in. He had yet to meet Bini.

“Jeremy over at Bunny Hill Farm had a big load he was happy to sell us now that he's nearing the end of the season,” Tyler said. “Deal was we had to buy it all.”

I combed my hands through my hair. “Good lord. Well, we can't put it with the special. That's too much green.”

“I'm sorry?” Bini said. “What are you talking about?”

“I thought you wanted to make shooters,” Tyler said.

“I hadn't heard from you, so I wasn't planning on it today.” I looked at Custer. “Can we swing it? I have an idea of how I want to prepare them. Can you start chopping the asparagus and sautéing it with some shallots and butter?”

“Yes, boss.”

Tyler towered over his nephew. “Was that sarcasm in your tone?”

I stood. “That's what Custer calls me. And I don't mind a bit.”

Tyler rested his hand on Custer's shoulder. “As long as he's respectful.”

Custer shrugged out from under Tyler's hand and stood. He shuffled back to the kitchen without saying a word.

“Tyler,” I said. “Custer is doing a fabulous job. And he is nothing but respectful to all of us.”

Tyler looked at the kitchen door as it swung back and forth, his face lined in thought.

Bini took in the café. “This is a pretty nice place.”

I gasped. That was the first kind thing she'd ever said to me. Maybe there was hope for us. “How about some breakfast, you two?”

“No time,” Bini said.

I turned when I heard a rap at the door. Doris was clutching my paper. I let her in. She wiped her forehead and set my paper on the counter. “It's in the nineties already. Anyone who doesn't think global warming is real is a fool.”

“Coffee?”

“On a day like this?” she frowned.

“Iced coffee, then. How about an iced latte?”

“I'll take one of those,” Tyler said.

“Well, okay, me, too,” Bini said.

Doris was staring at Tyler. “You hear your brother's back in town?”

“I did,” Tyler said.

“Well, he's sniffing around my sister like a dog in heat.”

“He must be out of money,” Tyler said.

I started the coffees. “Does Custer know?”

“Custer doesn't need to know,” Tyler said. “Nothing good would come of him encountering Butch.”

I gave Doris her coffee. “But he's your brother.” I looked at Tyler, perplexed.

“He may be your brother, but he needs to let Lori be.” Doris turned to leave. She brushed past Kevin as he bustled through the door with customary white box.

“You guys are not going to believe what I have here.” He walked with purpose to the counter. He was in white shorts, a plaid short-sleeved shirt, and a pale blue bow tie. His arrival was like popping a balloon of tension that had been building in the café with the mention of Butch Wells.

Kevin stopped when he saw me pour a latte into a cup of ice. “Oh, would you look at that. Draw two, bartender.” He looked around the room. “Okay, I know little Crys and Glenn. But who are you?”

Bini looked at Kevin and blinked a few times. Tyler stepped toward Kevin and extended his hand. “Tyler Wells. I lease Rosalie's farm. And this is Bini Katz.”

“Oh my Lordy. What an awesome name! Bini
Katz
? Oh, that's delicious.”

I watched Kevin, appreciating the way he brightened a room. I thought back to what Chuck had told us about his and Jake's encounter with CJ. My heart sank as I imagined how anyone could ever be cruel to such an open and kind person. I wondered how he would tell the story.

Bini was still staring at Kevin, a blank look on her face. “So what did you bring us, Kevin?” I said.

He opened the box. “Key lime bars. Can you stand it? Instead of lemon bars, I made key lime. Is there anything better on a day like today?”

Within seconds, Glenn, Crystal, Tyler, and Bini had all stepped closer to Kevin, crowding to get a glance at the box.

“I feel like a gazelle in a herd of lions,” Kevin said, “and it's kind of fun.”

“Go ahead and feed them, Kevin,” I said. “They're on me.”

“I'll bring you some more,” he said, and started to pass out the pastries.

Glenn took a bite of the key lime bar. Crumbs dotted his lips. “You need to bring more than just a few.”

Once he had distributed the pastries, Kevin walked over to the glass case and began stacking the remaining bars artfully. I envied his ability to make everything he touched more appealing. “Kevin,” I said, “remember what I said about getting together sometime? Are you two free this weekend?”

Kevin stopped and frowned. “What are you doing Sunday?”

“Looking forward to having a few days off.”

“We'll make dinner. No need to bring anything.”

“It's a date,” I said. “But I have to bring something. Wine?”

“It will get drunk,” he said. “And if all goes as planned, so will I.”

I smiled. “Why don't you give me one more key lime bar? I'll take it back to Custer.” I set it on a napkin and served up four iced coffees.

I found Custer chopping the asparagus. The scent of shallots cooking in butter whetted my appetite. I noticed four large cartons of asparagus on the floor. I could barely step around them. “Kevin—”

He stopped chopping. “You think I can't hear everything you all say out there?”

“Oh, so you know about the key lime bars?”

“I know about my father,” Custer said. “That's why you asked about him the other day, isn't it?”

“He came back for CJ's funeral.” I set the napkin next to him. “Are you going to try to see him?”

“Why the hell would I do that?” Custer's face was flushed. Perspiration dotted his upper lip. I had never seen him angry before.