Wound Up In Murder (5 page)

The dinner bell was beginning to ring as I rushed down the driveway of Vista Del Mar. Meals were included and served in the Sea Foam dining hall. It was one of the features that made the resort a great place to hold retreats. When I glanced behind me, the crowd was coming out of the Lodge door and heading toward the dining hall. I went across the quiet street to get my car.

Even though Dane lived down the street, we'd agreed to meet at the restaurant since I'd be sticking around afterward to do my baking and he would be heading to the police station and his shift. When I looked down toward his place, his red Ford 150 wasn't in his driveway.

Just before I pulled away in my Mini Cooper, I gave a last glance toward the house. Julius must have heard the car and jumped on the kitchen counter. I saw the black cat looking out the kitchen window. I was glad he was inside. It was useless trying to make him an indoor cat and I'd arranged it so he
could come and go as he pleased, but now that it was twilight, I didn't like to think of him as wandering alone outside.

Lights were coming on as I drove to downtown Cadbury by the Sea. I had dropped off my muffin-making supplies at the restaurant earlier in the day. I was still a little nervous about this dinner with Dane and tried to distract myself with thoughts about the fuss between Norman Rathman and his wife. He seemed to want her to leave the conference yet she wanted to stay. I had a feeling she was going to win out and I wondered if there would be repeats of their scene all weekend. I hoped not. The distraction ended, and before I could come up with something else to think about, my thoughts returned to Dane. I had been drawn to him since the very beginning no matter how much I tried to deny it. But something had always gotten in the way of us doing anything more than flirting.

He came from a different world than I did, for sure. I had two parents who probably focused too much attention on me. I'd found out recently that he'd never known his father, and his mother was an alcoholic who still hadn't tamed her demons. Dane had acted like the man in the family from the time he was a kid and had taken care of his mother and his sister. His sister said everybody had thought he was this tough bad boy type but in reality he was the one keeping his family together. He'd even been the one to take his sister shopping for her first bra. It was obvious he had a lot of character, even if he came off as a little cocky. How could you not be attracted to someone like that? And did I mention that he was hot?

I turned off the motor and sat for a minute. Was I really doing the right thing? Was I opening a door that should be left closed? All kinds of messy scenarios played in my mind. “Shut up,” I told myself. “It's only dinner.”

There was a line of people waiting for tables on the porch
of the Blue Door. The restaurant was always busy from the time they opened until I came in to do my baking. For good reason. Lucinda and her husband had turned the old house into a charming place with wonderful food. Lucinda was standing by the front counter when I came in. It was habit, but I looked at the array of desserts on the covered pedestal dishes. One of the waitresses was just taking a slice of the flourless chocolate cake I'd baked the night before. There was a quarter of it left. The pound cake next to it was in a similar state.

“Don't worry, your desserts are moving. We always run out of them before we run out of customers,” my friend said. She looked at my dress and gave me a discreet thumbs-up. “He's already here,” she said with a knowing smile.

When I said the Blue Door had been a house before it had been a restaurant, I probably should have specified small house or cottage. The dining area was spread through what had once been a living room, another small room beyond and the sunporch on the end. I was hoping we'd be seated on the sunporch. There was only room for a few tables and it was probably the most private spot in the place.

But Lucinda pointed to a table in the former living room in front of a window that looked out on Grand Street. Dane looked up and our eyes met, then his gave my outfit the once-over. He stood up as I approached the table and pulled out my chair. Since I'd seen him either in his uniform or something casual like jeans and a hoodie, I guess that was what I expected him to show up in. But he had on a dress shirt and a sport jacket and he smelled of woodsy cologne. He'd gone whole hog.

“I thought you might have stood me up,” he said, looking at his watch with mock seriousness. He pointed at the chair. “But now that you're here, let's get this date started. Sit.”

I had this horrible urge to take off when he said the word
date
. What had I gotten myself into? What were we going to talk about? Maybe this was the time to tell him what I'd learned about Edmund Delacorte's love child. He had nothing to gain or lose if a Delacorte heir showed up, but I was sure he'd have an opinion. I could tell him about the information I had and see what he thought I should do with it.

“I'm sorry I'm late,” I said before telling him about the mixer and Madeleine wanting me to be her escort. I went on about the 1963 retreat people and how one of them had tried to ruin Sammy's show. Dane listened with interest, then he reached over the table and took my hand.

“We're really doing it this time. Just you and me. Our first real date.”

There is something else about the Blue Door. The tables are very close together. In other words, what Dane said was heard by everyone at the tables around us.

“Aw, how sweet,” I heard someone say from the next table. “You two make such a cute couple.”

“Don't they,” I heard someone else say before explaining that I was a dessert baker and he was a cop.

“Oh, to be young and in love,” a white-haired woman said. It was followed by more comments wondering about our future together. A man walked by and nudged Dane. “Looks like you've found a keeper.”

There were more comments like was I going to bake my own wedding cake and would we have the reception at the Blue Door.

I don't know about Dane, but I was slumping farther and farther down into my chair. I hadn't considered what it was like to date someone in a small town. Everyone was in our business and apparently not afraid to let us know.

Even Lucinda and her husband, Tag, weren't much better. Tag hovered, wanting to make sure everything was just right,
and Lucinda kept dropping comments about what a cute couple we made each time she went by.

“What have we done?” I said in a whisper. It was really more what had I done. I was still uncertain about how long my future was going to be in Cadbury, and I was trying to keep myself unfettered.

“I should have realized what we were in for,” he said. “Let's try to make the best of it. I promise no more hand touching and I won't throw any adoring looks your way,” he said with a teasing laugh.

We ended up eating dinner like two strangers, barely talking except to ask for something to be passed. There was no way I was going to bring up the contents of the envelope with so many ears taking in everything we said. It was a relief when we got to coffee. We were going to share a dessert, but decided not to. It would just give more fodder to our fellow diners.

Lucinda refused to bring us a check and then stepped away as Dane looked at his watch. “Duty calls. I'm sorry this didn't turn out the way it was supposed to.”

“It's not your fault. I'm not used to being watched and having people tell you what they're thinking.”

Dane laughed and started to reach toward me, but retracted his hand. “How about you walk me to the truck,” he said.

It had grown dark and the stores were beginning to close as we walked out onto the main street. As soon as we were outside, both of us relaxed. “I should have known. Next time will be better,” he said.

“Next time? Maybe this was a bad idea. I'm not so sure about being the topic of town gossip.”

Dane grabbed my arm. “You look for an excuse to back away, don't you?” I looked down. He knew about my history of not staying with things very long.

“At least give me a second chance.” Before I could respond, he'd put his arms around me and pulled me to him. And then he kissed me. Not that I minded. It was everything I thought it would be and more. Like sticking my finger in an electric socket, but in a good way. Boy, was I in trouble, or maybe not. Suddenly we were flooded by light and I heard a voice over a loudspeaker in a singsongy tone.

“Dane and his girlfriend sitting in a tree. Looks like they're k-i-s-s-i-n-g.”

“Aw geez,” Dane said as we stepped apart. When I looked at the curb, a police cruiser had pulled over and trained its spotlight on us. The cop stuck his head out of the window.

“Way to go, Mangano.”

*   *   *

Hours later when everything was closed up for the night and the streets were deserted, I carried out all the containers full of muffins. In honor of the 1963 retreat, I had baked classic blueberry muffins with no cute second name from me. I had left a change of clothes with the muffin ingredients and was now wearing comfortable jeans dusted with flour and a beige fleece jacket that had a nice blueberry stain on it.

Dane had gone off to work. He had desk duty and was probably sipping coffee at the police station a few blocks away. My feet echoed on the empty sidewalks as I dropped off the muffins at the local coffee spots. It didn't matter that they were closed. They all had a place to leave deliveries. I picked up the empty containers from the previous day and loaded them back in the car.

It had been a very, very long day and the concept of a long sleep sounded appealing. Finally, I started up the Mini Cooper and headed for home and my last delivery—to the café at Vista Del Mar.

Without thinking, I pulled into my driveway. The headlights illuminated the stoop outside my kitchen door, where I noticed a dark hump of something. I cut the motor and left the headlights on as I got out to see what it was. Or who it was, I thought, as I realized that it was a slumped figure.

“Sammy?” I exclaimed as I got closer. At the sound of his name, his head shot up, then wobbled.

“Case, am I glad to see you,” he said in a slurred voice. He put his hand in front of his eyes to block the bright light, but I could still see that his features looked vague. Was Sammy drunk? I'd never known him to be much of a drinker, other than a glass of wine or champagne to celebrate something.

I went back to the car and shut off the headlights and he lowered his hand. “Thanks,” he said. He made an effort to stand, but slipped back down before he could manage it. Before I could ask him what was going on, he grabbed my arm. “Case, I've done something terrible.” He stopped abruptly and said something about feeling a little queasy and then mumbled to himself that he was a doctor and should know what to do about it.

He seemed to want to explain something about the magic act earlier, but he wasn't making much sense. He certainly wasn't in any condition to drive himself and I wasn't so sure how he'd react to riding anywhere, since he wasn't feeling well. I considered letting him sleep it off at my house, but rejected that idea since mine was the only room set up as a bedroom.

I glanced across the driveway at the guest house my aunt had created out of her stand-alone garage. I had lived there comfortably while she was alive. The furniture was all still there. Lately I had just used my former home to put together and store the mystery bags for my retreat. I had discovered it was better to keep the bags away from the playful paws of a cat.

I steered Sammy toward the door and opened it for him. When I flipped on the light, I saw all the bright red tote bags lined up on the counter that blocked off the tiny kitchen area and also served as a place to eat.

“You're the best, Case,” Sammy said as I helped him inside. “Like I always say, you're the only one who gets me.” The words all ran together and I probably wouldn't have understood what he was saying if it hadn't been something he said all the time. He was leaning all over me and clearly still very drunk as he muttered on about breaking some illusion and that it was wrong, but he had to do it. It sounded like it had to do with his magic act and I wondered if something more had happened after I left. I had to prop him up against the wall, so that I could pull down the foldaway bed. It had barely touched the floor before he fell across it mumbling a thank-you, which quickly morphed into a soft snore. I managed to get his feet on the bed and take off his shoes. I pulled the colorful afghan my aunt had made for me over him before shutting off the light and walking back outside. Julius was in the window and had watched the whole thing.

“It's not what you think,” I said. “It's just one night until he sobers up.” The truth was I somehow felt responsible for Sammy. If I hadn't moved here, he wouldn't have followed me. Of course, he insisted that he'd relocated here and joined a urology practice in Monterey because he liked the area and it had nothing to do with me. Sure, right. And he wouldn't have gotten the gig doing magic at Vista Del Mar if I hadn't been doing the retreats there. So whatever had gone wrong that made him get drunk was more or less my fault.