Eggs Benedict Arnold (9 page)

“
Isn
’
t it?
”
said Missy.
“
But Ozzie only had the one brother, and I guess he just wants to move things along.
”

Now if only I could do that, too,
thought Suzanne.

Lunch
was packed today and ran for a good two hours.
At one point Suzanne had to run in and help Petra make a dozen more chicken wraps. Then Suzanne and Toni had to
clean up quickly so they could set up for afternoon tea.

While Petra assembled small tea sandwiches of curried chicken salad and carrot, pecan, and cream cheese, Toni brewed pots of Yunnan black tea and rosehips tea.

That gave Suzanne a little free time to putter around in
the Book Nook again. While customers came, browsed, and
bought books, Suzanne worked at unpacking several new
boxes of books that had arrived via FedEx that morning. By looking back at the last six months of sales, Suzanne had determined the reading trends of the local populace, and so had ordered mysteries as well as books about the stock market, quilting, knitting, and Mediterranean-style cooking.

Just as she was ringing up a children
’
s book for a young
mom and her five-year-old daughter, Suzanne caught a flash of jet black hair and the unmistakable sparkle of diamonds.

She glanced up to see Carmen Copeland, romance au
thor and owner of Alchemy Boutique, gazing at her intently
from across the room.

That was the wacko thing about Carmen. She never
smiled, never displayed any interest in anyone but herself.
Carmen just appeared and projected the air of an entitled, wealthy duchess waiting for court buglers to announce her
arrival and the red carpet to be rolled out.

“
Carmen,
”
said Suzanne, determined to be friendly even
if it killed her,
“
wonderful to see you.
”

Carmen crossed the carpet and dumped her handbag, a gorgeous mahogany-colored alligator bag with a dangling
charm, D for Dior, on the counter.
“
Did you hear about the murder?
”
she asked, a trifle breathless. With her dark
hair, heart-shaped face, and drop-dead figure, Carmen was
a truly gorgeous woman. Of course, the slinky emerald-green dress, strappy Gucci heels, diamond necklace, diamond ring, and twin diamond bracelets didn
’
t hurt, either. Projected a certain air of luxe living.

Suzanne decided not to tell Carmen that she
’
d actually been at the scene of the crime.
“
I heard all about it,
”
she told Carmen.
“
And then Missy dropped by a couple
of hours ago, right before lunch. As you can imagine, she
was extremely upset over Ozzie
’
s death. Heartbroken, re
ally.
”
Peering closely at Carmen, Suzanne noticed that the
tiny lines around her eyes seemed to have disappeared. Her
lips were also much plumper, almost a trout pout, as one
Hollywood gossip rag referred to collagen-enhanced lips.
Yes, Carmen must have made a trip to a skillful cosmetic surgeon who specialized in injectables.

“
Don
’
t you find it weird . . . Ozzie being murdered on
his own table like that?
”
Carmen
’
s eyes sparkled, as though
she was thinking about switching from writing romance novels to true crime.

“
It
’
s bizarre,
”
agreed Suzanne, wondering just how much Carmen knew about the murder. How she
’
d picked up her facts.

Carmen gave a slight frown.
“
I just hope Missy is able
to pull herself together. We
’
ve got our grand opening Fri
day and there are still a trillion details to take care of.
”
Sighing, she said,
“
It
’
s just so hard to find people you can
count on.
”

Suzanne decided Carmen must have been born without
a heart. Or else it had been surgically removed and replaced
with a mechanism of stainless steel or some other hard metallic substance. And Carmen was a romance writer at that!
Made her millions penning love stories!

“
Missy
’
s got a good head on her shoulders,
”
said Suzanne,
“
but she
’
s going to need time to grieve. It
’
s only natural.
”

“
As her employer, I
’
d prefer she do it on her own time,
”
responded Carmen.

Suzanne wondered what would happen if she reached across the counter and gave Carmen a good smack upside of the head. Probably, she decided, Carmen would just smack her back. Carmen was like that. Mean. Fearless.
Aggressive. Not unlike the timber rattlers that lived in the towering bluffs above Kindred. Even though the Midwest
wasn
’
t their natural environment, the rattlers were there, and they were dug in. It was as simple as that.

Something clunked against the counter, and then Carmen held up a large two-by-three-foot laminated poster that featured the colorful cover of her new book.

“
I always have my publisher make posters and ship them
to the more prestigious bookstores,
”
said Carmen.
“
But we had one left over, so I thought I
’
d give it to you. See?
”
She pointed to a strip of paper that was striped across one cor
ner.
“
It
’
s even got the date and time of my book signing.
”

“
Wonderful,
”
said Suzanne.
“
We
’
ll place it right by the
romance section.
”

“
Don
’
t you think it would look better in the window?
”
asked Carmen.

Suzanne wanted to tell her it would be better still shoved
down her gullet. But she didn
’
t. Just held her tongue and accepted the poster.

Once
Carmen had left, once Suzanne had dug out a copy of
Tragic Magic
for a customer, she poked her head into
the cafe. Three tables each held groups of four women, all enjoying tea, triangle-shaped tea sandwiches, and ginger
bread scones.

So . . . good. I can kick back in my office and place a few orders.

Because Petra was such a prolific baker, and business
had been awfully good
—knock on wood—they were for
ever ordering flour, sugar, butter, and spices from their local
restaurant supply house. But the minute Suzanne sat down
in her chair and snugged it up to the antique oak library table that served as a desk, the phone jangled.

“
Suzanne,
”
came a cheery voice, when she picked it up.
“
How do?
”

She knew instantly it was Gene Gandle from the
Bugle.

“
It
’
s Gene. From the
Bugle
”

“
I know that, Gene.
”

“
I
’
m just putting the finishing touches on a story here,
”
said Gene, brightly.
“
And I wanted to make sure I included
your perspective.
”

Oh crap. He
’
s doing a story on Ozzie.

“
Not sure what you
’
re talking about, Gene,
”
Suzanne told him.

There was a forced chuckle and then Gene said,
“
You
’
re
doing it again, Suzanne.
”

“
What
’
s that, Gene?
”

“
Playing dumb.
”

Suzanne snorted.
“
Thanks for your kind and generous observation.
”

“
You know darn well I
’
m writing a story about Ozzie
’
s
murder,
”
said Gene.
“
Gonna be front page. Above the fold,
”
he bragged.

“
And the headline will be forty-eight-point type?
”

“
I
’
m just trying to put together a credible story,
”
Gene whined.
“
Before I have to turn it in to my editor.
”

“
I
’
m sure Sheriff Doogie told you everything that he
’
s
able to release to the press,
”
said Suzanne.
“
Or to the pub
lic, for that matter.
”

“
And his information was pathetically scant,
”
complained Gene.
“
Lacked detail. C
’
mon, Suzanne, you were
there. You saw poor old Ozzie dead on the table.
”

Suzanne dropped the phone to her chest and stared at a
small framed needlepoint that Petra had finished last week
and set on the desk. She
’
d created a lovely montage of weeping willows, bubbling brook, and birch forest, along with a quote by Dante
th
at read,
Nature is the art of God.

“
How did you know I was there?
”
Suzanne asked.

“
It
’
s my job to know things,
”
said Gene.

“
I don
’
t think I can add anything, Gene.
”

“
Then how about you share your suspicions?
”
he asked.

“
No way,
”
said Suzanne.

“
C
’
mon,
”
said Gene.
“
This is hot stuff. So far we
’
ve got
a scorned girlfriend, a jealous ex-husband, and a young kid
with a serious history of violence.
”

“
Sounds like a made-for-TV movie,
”
remarked Suzanne.

Gene
’
s voice was upbeat.
“
Doesn
’
t it? That
’
s why
I
wanted you to add your take on the matter. Help stir
the
pot, so to speak.
”

“
That
’
s the last thing I want to do, Gene.
”

“
My editor
’
s gonna want
something
”
wheedled Gene.

“
Put her on the phone, will you?
”
asked Suzanne. Laura
Benchley was the managing editor of the
Bugle
and a ter
rifically smart businesswoman.