Eggs Benedict Arnold (16 page)

“
Well... okay.
”
Missy sounded disappointed.
“
Are you coming to the visitation tonight?
”

“
Of course,
”
said Suzanne, thinking it might shake out as a rather strange gathering.

“
If you come up with anything ...
”
said Missy.

“
Absolutely,
”
said Suzanne.
“
You
’
ll be the first to know.
Hey, maybe Sheriff Doogie will drop by and I can pump him for information.
”

“
I think he
’
d sooner have his stomach pumped,
”
Missy replied in a sour tone.

But
Missy was wrong about that. Because Sheriff Doogie did drop by right before lunch, just as Suzanne was jotting
the specials on the board. And, for some reason, Doogie seemed far less reticent in discussing Ozzie
’
s murder.

“
How goes the investigation?
”
Suzanne asked, as Doo
gie slid his khaki bulk onto a nearby stool. She continued
to scratch away with her colored chalk, writing down
Corn
Chowder, Egg Salad Sandwich, Turkey Fajita, Cackleberry
Club Brown Sugar Meatloaf,
and
Pumpkin Pie.

Doogie gave a low whistle.
“
That
’
s a fine lineup today,
”
he told her.

“
Yes, it is,
”
agreed Suzanne, dotting the
i
in pie. Doogie
was a man who appreciated real home cooking, probably because he didn
’
t get much anymore. He was a widower
whose wife had
died
of breast cancer some five years ago. After her death, he
’
d resigned from the state patrol and run for sheriff. Opposed by a former garbage hauler, he
’
d been
elected in a landslide. Over the years, a few women had
made a run at Doogie, but none had caught his eye. Doogie
remained polite but standoffish.

“
Is that pie made fresh from real pumpkins?
”
asked Doogie.
“
‘
Cause if it is, I
’
ll have me a piece.
”

“
Of course, you will,
”
said Suzanne. When did Doogie
not get a free ride at the Cackleberry Club?
“
I was asking about the murder?
”
she prompted again.

Doogie sucked air in through his front teeth.
“
Thing
’
s are goin
’
slow. I
’
ve been doin
’
this by the book, following procedure, conducting interviews, but...
”

“
No hot leads?
”
said Suzanne.

“
I got dog poop,
”
admitted Doogie.
“
Ozzie didn
’
t seem to have any enemies.
”

“
How about friends?
”
asked Suzanne.
“
Sometimes friends can become enemies. Anger, jealousy, disputes over money ...
”

“
Funny thing about that, too,
”
said Doogie.
“
Ozzie didn
’
t have a lot of close friends. Maybe folks are hesitant to cozy up to an undertaker... I don
’
t know.
”

“
Maybe so,
”
said Suzanne. Although Missy had. For a while, anyway.

Doogie leaned across the counter.
“
You heard anything,
Suzanne?
”

Her front teeth worried her bottom lip for a moment
and
then she said,
“
Earl Stensrud was in for breakfast a little while ago, trying to stir up rumors about George Draper.
”

“
What kind of rumors?
”
Doogie asked, as his hooded eyes roved across the back counter.

“
Apparently Earl sold Driesden and Draper some key partner insurance and now George Draper is set to collect.
”

Doogie let out a sigh that sounded like a balloon deflat
ing.
“
George already mentioned that to me.
”

“
He did?
”
Suzanne was surprised. George Draper was
either a completely forthright guy or else a master at setting
up an excellent smokescreen.

“
Anything else?
”
asked Doogie. Now he seemed fixated
with the chocolate-covered doughnuts that sat plump and glistening, covered with pink and yellow sprinkles, in the
pastry case. Before the sprinkles, Suzanne used to decorate
with little silver balls. But when a customer busted a filling biting down on one, she switched to the more dental-friendly sprinkles.

“
I have a theory,
”
said Suzanne.
“
That I
’
d like you to hear.
”

When Doogie scrunched up his face in disapproval, Su
zanne pulled a doughnut from the case, set it on a small
plate, and shoved it across the counter toward Doogie. That
seemed to soften him up.

“
Okay, what
’
s your theory?
”
asked Doogie, grabbing the doughnut and taking an enormous bite.

Doogie, the doughnut whisperer,
Suzanne thought to
herself. Then she shook her head to clear it and proceeded
to lay out her meth lab theory. Basically postulating that crazy, whacked-out crackheads had swarmed out of the hills, on the hunt for supplies.

“
Already thought of that,
”
Doogie told her as he
b
rushed
away some of the sprinkles that had cascaded haphazardly
down the front of his shirt.
“
Or, I should say, George Draper mentioned it. He said it
’
s not uncommon for meth lab freaks to break into funeral homes and veterinarians
’
offices, looking for chemicals to brew up their poison.
”

“
So drugs were missing,
”
said Suzanne.

Doogie nodded slowly.
“
Appears so.
”

“
You think there
’
s any merit to the meth lab idea? Are you going to look into it?
”

Doogie turned a flat-eyed stare on her.
“
You mean am
I going to cruise Logan County, rousting folks from every
cottage, cabin, farmhouse, and outhouse?
”

“
Put out an APB?
”
Suzanne asked, weakly.

“
Nope,
”
said Doogie.
“
Although that
’
s what most people think I should do if I want to win reelection.
”

“
By most folks you mean Mayor Mobley and his toa
di
e
s?
”

“
You got that right,
”
said Doogie. Then his nose twitched
spasmodically and his head swiveled as though set on ball bearings as he watched Toni slide past them, carrying two
steaming platters of Cackleberry Club Meatloaf.
“
Now
that
’
s
what I really need,
”
exclaimed Doogie,
“
to perk up a shitty day.
”

Chapter eleven

The
Silver Leaf Tea Club was an afternoon tea club you had to be over fifty to belong to. The tea club had been
Petra
’
s brainstorm and had proved to be more popular than
reruns of
Friends.
Always held the first Tuesday of the
month, the Silver Leaf Tea Club attracted a huge following of wonderful, older women. To top it off, they were funny,
gregarious, and always dressed to the nines.

Besides attending church or going out to dinner at Kopell
’
s over in Cornucopia, there weren
’
t a lot of places around Kindred that gave a lady an opportunity to get all dolled up. But when they flocked to the Cackleberry Club for tea, the women of Kindred and the surrounding small towns pushed fashion to the max.

One contingent of women always seemed to opt for the classic British look. Tweedy skirts and jackets, cream-colored blouses with pussycat bows, sensible shoes, tams and berets perched rakishly on well-coifed heads. Your basic
Miss Marple wannabes.

Another contingent went for the sophisticated Brooke
Astor socialite look. Tailored suits, sheath dresses, strings of opera pearls, vintage crystal pins on their lapels, fifties-style felt hats, and antique mink stoles draped around their
shoulders, the pelts clamped nose to tail with tiny mink paws dangling.Suzanne and Toni had worked feverishly to transform the Cackleberry Club into a proper tearoom. White linen tablecloths were draped over battered wooden tables. Small candles flickered enticingly in glass teapot warm
ers. Sugar cubes were piled in silver bowls with matching tongs alongside. Place settings included hand-embroidered placemats, elegant Haviland china with plates and match
ing teacups in the Annette pattern, and polished flatware. In
addition, pink tapers and crystal vases filled with pink tea
roses adorned each table.

“
What do you think?
”
asked Toni, lighting the final can
dle and stepping back to assess their artistry.

“
Very posh,
”
said Suzanne.

“
That
’
s the exact word I was thinking of,
”
said Toni with
a grin.

At ten to two, the Silver Leaf Tea Club
ladies
bunched
excitedly outside the door. At two o
’
clock promptly, they entered the Cackleberry Club, oohing and aahing at the table settings that seemed so elegant and magical.

Then Suzanne and Toni were off and running yet again,
taking orders for pots of tea. Today
’
s offerings included
Formosan oolong, Assam, Chinese Hao Ya black tea, and Egyptian chamomile. Of course, once a table had finished
their pot of tea, they were free to select another variety.

As Toni raced out with pots of tea, Suzanne worked beside Petra in the kitchen. They were serving all the food at once today, using three-tiered curate stands. This not only
made serving a breeze, but the three-tiered silver stands were show-stoppers when laden with goo
di
e
s.

Scones graced the top tier, of course, which today consisted of Petra
’
s special cinnamon date scones served with
mounds of Devonshire cream. The middle tier, traditionally
used for savories and tea sandwiches, was filled with crab
salad sandwiches,
goat cheese and cucumber sandwiches, and cheese and honey bruschetta. Strawberries dipped in chocolate, almond bars, and small squares of lemon cake lined the bottom tier.