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Authors: Wendy Sand Eckel

BOOK: Death at the Day Lily Cafe
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“Plated. I don't have room for a buffet. Plus I only have Custer, and together we can prepare just so many dishes. We're stretched as it is. Do you think it will fly?”

Kevin filled two wineglasses. The rosé sparkled in the late evening sun hovering just above the horizon, the reflection from the water intensifying its pale pink glow. “Plated is better. I hate having to stand up to get my food. All that jostling makes me tense. And then there's the kid in front of you who picks up the tongs and takes one French fry at a time. And that's the only thing he's eating.
Hello
, parents.”

“Exactly.”

He handed me a glass and raised his to meet it. “To new friends.”

“To new friends,” I echoed, and sipped the wine. “Oh my,” I said. “I like it. You?”

“It's fabulous. I need to pour one for Jake. He will go buy a case tomorrow.” He removed another wineglass from a rack beneath a cabinet. “I made a martini for Glenn, so he is good to go. Why don't you join them. I'll be right out.”

I slid open the door, picked up the hem of my dress, and stepped out onto the deck. A pergola framed the space, and a large ceiling fan with rattan teardrop-shaped blades spun lazily. Comfortable outdoor seating was arranged in carefully planned groupings and a coffee table hosted what looked to be a delicious assortment of appetizers: prosciutto-wrapped fresh mozzarella balls, shrimp on ice, bruschetta with various toppings, and an assortment of Mediterranean olives.

“Rosalie,” Jake said, and gave me a warm hug, although my face only reached his armpit. “I'm so glad you both could make it on such short notice.” Jake was dressed in a tight-fitting black tee, his muscles hard as rocks, and silk khaki pants.

I gave Glenn a quick kiss. He had changed into linen trousers and a pressed shirt. “You look nice,” I said.

“A far cry from the mess I was earlier today.” He turned to face the river. “What do you think of this view?”

“Absolutely stunning.”

Kevin arrived with the bottle and a plate of sliced cheeses. “Rosalie got this from the Yellow Labrador.”

Jake accepted the glass and took a healthy sip. He swirled it in his mouth and frowned in thought. “I like it.” He sipped again. “No, I love it. We should…”

“Get a case?” Kevin said, and winked at me. “What did I tell you?”

“Glenn,” I said, “we need to take a road trip out there this week and order some wine. We're ready, right? Can we handle serving wine?”

“After the past two weekends, I think we can handle whatever comes our way.”

Kevin leaned in toward Glenn. “Say
kina hora
. Quick.”

Glenn looked puzzled. “Why?”

“Just say it,” Kevin said.

“Okay,
kina hora
. Now why did I just say that?”

“It's like knocking on wood. Keeps away the evil spirits. When you say something bold like you just did, you want to ensure you didn't jinx yourself.”

Jake laughed. “It's a Yiddish thing. Right, Kev? But I think it actually works.”


Kina hora
,” I said. “Just to add my two cents.”

Jake set his glass on the table. “I have to check the lamb.”

“Lamb?” Glenn patted his stomach. “You've already put out such a spread, how will I have room for dinner?”

“It's light. Lamb lollipops and some roasted veggies.”

“Oh my,” I said.

“Jake,” Kevin said, “I forgot the music.” He tapped his palm against the side of his head. “What an idiot. I'll be right back.”

Once they had both gone into the house, Glenn and I walked over to the deck railing and looked out at the river. Several sailboats were moored close to a nearby marina, the swift current parting at their hulls.

“This is lovely,” I said.

“Yes. What a place they have.” After a pleasant silence Glenn asked, “Do you still think about her?”

“Every time I gaze out at this river.”

A soft, jazzy riff emanated from a set of outdoor speakers.

“The whole situation was really quite remarkable,” Glenn said. “You finding Megan. Searching for her killer. And then figuring it out.” He shook his head. “I still can't believe it all happened.”

“Who is Megan?” Kevin joined us at the railing. Jake appeared right after him with the rest of the wine and began topping off our glasses.

“It's a long story,” I said.

“But it sounds like a good one,” Kevin said. “You said something about searching for a killer. I'm beyond intrigued.”

“Why don't we sit,” Jake said. “The lamb is resting.”

We settled into adjacent chairs. I crossed my legs and took a sip of wine. “You sure you want to hear this?”

“You're stalling!” Kevin sang.

“I found a dead body in my marsh grasses last year. The family said she committed suicide and asked the sheriff to close the investigation. But it just didn't seem right, so I decided to look into it. After a long search, Glenn and I, and two of our friends, discovered she had been murdered.”

“We may have helped Rosalie,” Glenn said, “but she's the one who got the killer to confess.”

“That's incredible,” Kevin said.

“It was really quite awful,” I said. “And she was a lovely girl.”

“Who was she?” Jake said.

“A student at the college.”

“Wait,” Jake said. “I remember this. I heard a rumor that was why Nick Angeles left the school. Everyone was shocked. He was the president's darling.”

“I remember Nick,” Kevin said. “He was wicked handsome. Did he hit on her? He was a vicious flirt.”

“You could say that,” I said.

Jake leaned in. “He slept with her, didn't he?”

“Can I plead the Fifth?”

“I knew it.” Jake sat back. “What a sleaze. No wonder they got rid of him. I'm pretty sure he lost that big grant of his, too. We have so many excellent teachers, but you get one guy like that and a school could lose its reputation. I hope he's pushing a broom somewhere.”

“So, not only did Rosalie solve this crime,” Glenn said as he speared a shrimp with a toothpick, “but she's been asked to solve another.”

“Get out.” Kevin slapped his thigh. “You're a regular Miss Marple.”

I looked over at Glenn, admiring his segue. “Doris Bird's sister has been accused of killing her husband. Did you hear about it? Her husband, CJ Fiddler, was shot in the chest two weeks ago.” I bumped my knee against Glenn's. This was it. Our opportunity. Way to go, friend.

Jake finished his wine in two gulps. He set the glass down with a thud.

Kevin eyed him warily. “We know about it.” He looked back at us. “I mean, it's Cardigan, right? If you don't know something as sensational as that, you're dead.” Kevin rubbed his chin. “That didn't come out quite right.”

Glenn chuckled. “Well, you certainly have a point. Rosalie and I have been asking a lot of questions. Chuck, the bartender at the Cardigan Tavern, said CJ could get a little mouthy after a few drinks. Isn't that what he said, dear?”

“Yes,” I said.

Kevin looked over at Jake. “Can I tell them?”

Jake clenched his jaw. “It's like you said. Nothing is a secret here. Go ahead.”

Kevin straightened his spine and looked back at us. “We had a run-in with CJ not long ago. We love the Cardigan Tavern. And Chuck has started stocking our favorite beer.

“We like to go in there on the weekends and watch football or lacrosse or whatever. It's a nice outing for us. And Jake has the highest score on the pinball machine.” He smiled at his partner. “We don't get to spend all that much time together, with Jake's teaching and coaching.”

“And you ran into CJ at the tavern?” Glenn said.

“Pretty much literally ran into him there,” Kevin said and downed the last of his wine.

“I don't know if mouthy is the right word to describe him.” Jake fell back into his seat. His eyes darkened. “He's worse. He's a raging bigot.”

“Oh my.” Glenn sipped his martini. “I don't think I'll like what you're going to say next.”

“He was really hateful,” Jake continued. “He complained to Chuck that we shouldn't be allowed to use the bathroom. And he kept knocking back shots. We ignored him, but the slurs got worse. Then he said something to Kevin that pushed me past my limit. I won't repeat it.”

“I thought CJ would pee his pants when Jake stood up. I don't think he had any idea how fit Jake is. Or how tall.”

“It didn't faze him,” Jake said. “The words kept flying out of his mouth as if he had a case of unmedicated Tourette's syndrome.”

“They took it outside,” Kevin said. “Jake still won't tell me what he said to CJ. But Jake came back in alone.” Kevin gazed over at him. “Jake's my guy. He stood up for me, and it meant the world to me.” He looked back at us. “I don't know that anyone has ever done that for me. I mean, you can imagine the abuse I took in high school.” He shrugged. “But you can't change your spots, no matter how hard you push down on the eraser. And believe me, my father sure tried. And then I found Jake, and now our lives are in place. A good place. And I think we have a home here. Cardigan has a reputation for not accepting diversity, but we have made fabulous friends. CJ was the first person to act out.” Kevin picked up an olive. “Anyway, listen to me, could someone please hit the pause button?” He chewed and dropped the pit into his hand. “But I will say one more thing: I'm not sorry that CJ guy is dead.” He stared off into the distance for a moment. “Is that terrible to say?”

*   *   *

After an exquisite dinner and an even better dessert, Glenn and I walked to our cars, exhausted after the busy weekend. He opened the door for me. “My heart is heavy, Rosalie,” he said. “Are you thinking what I'm thinking?”

“I'm trying not to.”

“Could he have?”

“To defend the man he loves? Maybe. Who knows what CJ said.”

“I don't want to go there.” Glenn exhaled a long sigh.

“It was such a lovely evening. I like them both very much. As a couple and as individuals.” I pulled my keys from my bag. “You know, Glenn, last year with Megan all of our suspects were strangers. Most of them weren't even from Cardigan. It's different this time. We coexist with these people. Our lives bump together in all kinds of ways.”

“Yes, that's true, isn't it?” Glenn smiled. “All right, my dear, maybe we should both sleep on it. Who said small-town life was boring?”

“I'm still waiting for that to be the case.” I opened my car door. “Good night, Glenn.”

*   *   *

When I spotted Annie's Volvo in the driveway, I allowed the chronic knot of worry in my stomach to relax. She was home.

The house was dark and utterly still. I filled a glass with water and decided to check my e-mail. The glow of my computer screen cast an eerie light over the room. I smiled when a fluffy tail weaved between my legs. I scratched Todd's back while I waited for Safari to open.

A familiar dread passed through me when I saw an e-mail from Ed. The subject line read: Have you kidnapped Annie?

I'm not sure what you're trying to pull, Rose, but I haven't heard from Annie in weeks. We had an agreement that she would spend at least two weekends a month with me. She is being belligerent and disrespectful, and I won't tolerate it. I expect her here next weekend, no excuses. You have always said we should never put Annie in the middle, and now you are using her to sabotage my relationship with her. I honestly thought that kind of behavior was beneath you.

Ed

I combed my hands through my hair and thought of a million different ways to defend myself. But whatever I said would be lost on him. He was determined his view of the situation was the correct one, and I knew from experience he wouldn't budge due to an intense need to be right. I clicked reply and wrote the following:

Annie has a new friend. She is spending all her time with him. And I am afraid an infatuation is something neither of us have any power to influence. In the meantime, please contact Annie directly. I think she would like to know you are missing her, at least.

All best,
Rosalie

I was almost grateful to Ed for pushing me over my limit. I was now officially exhausted and brain-dead enough to go to sleep. I shut down my computer, picked up my water glass, and climbed the stairs. Annie's door was latched, which was unusual for her. She liked to encourage Todd to share her covers. I decided I needed a visual. I gripped the knob and turned it slowly. The door creaked as I eased it open. Light from the hallway cast shadows into the room. I could make out the contour of Annie's body under the covers. Todd let out a meow and preceded me into the room. I bent over to kiss my daughter's forehead but froze when I saw Custer's head nestled against her neck, his face peaceful in deep slumber.

 

T
WENTY
-
SIX

Annie and Custer were gone when I awoke the next morning. Annie was due at the physical therapy office where she was interning at seven, and apparently Custer had hitched a ride. After stewing for most of the morning and being completely unproductive, I came to the conclusion that I needed a chicken fix.

I grabbed a bag of food scraps I had brought home from the café and headed out to the coop. The hens were inside, cooing and brooding on their nests. Mick Jagger rested in the dirt, although he looked up alertly when I entered. “Hello, ladies,” I said. The hens watched me carefully, their heads moving in staccato jerks. I continued out to the fenced-in ranging area. Tyler's chicken wire was fastened over it, protecting them from the hawk.

I sat down in the soft grass and tucked my legs beneath me. I removed some torn bread and a few blueberries from the bag and tossed them into the grass in front of me. Next I took out some waffle pieces and held them in my hand.

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