Caught Bread Handed (8 page)

I looked at Sterling. He was staring at his feet. I knew that he had been writing his own poetry. I'd asked him to share it on the board before but he hadn't been ready. I caught his eye. He gave me a quick head shake. I didn't push him. He would share it when he was ready, or he wouldn't.

Andy shrugged. “Unless you want a quote about football, I'm out.”

Mom chuckled as Andy returned to the espresso bar. Stephanie shook her head. “Don't look at me. I'm still asleep.” She walked away with her head hanging down. I'd have to tell her she could have tomorrow morning off. I could handle the Sunday wholesale orders alone.

Mom clapped her hands together. “Come on, someone must have a quote for me. Sterling?”

“I'll have to think on that.” He ran his finger along his hummingbird tattoo. “And Carlos wants me to check stock in the fridge with him, right, Carlos?”

Carlos nodded. “
Sí,
I need my young chef to help, is this okay?”

Mom pretended to be hurt. “Go ahead, go work. I'll have to come up with something myself.”

Carlos looked at me to confirm that she was kidding.

“She's kidding, go.” I motioned them to the walk-in.

He paused and reached into his jeans pocket for his phone. “Helen, I thought you would want to see the new photo of Ramiro. He is beautiful, no?”

Mom held the phone a foot from her face. “I need my reading glasses.” She keeps multiple pairs of reading glasses in a vase on the front counter near the menus. “Just you wait until you hit forty,” she said to me when I asked about the glasses. “Our older customers appreciate being able to read the menu if they forget their glasses.”

“Hand me that pink pair, would you, Andy?” She pointed to the vase.

Andy tossed her a pair of glasses. Mom zoomed in on the photo of Ramiro. She pressed the glasses to the tip of her nose and looked up at Carlos and then back at the phone. “He is the spitting image of you.”

Carlos wrinkled his forehead. “Spitting image. I do not know this phrase.”

Mom handed him his phone. “He glows. I can't wait to meet him someday.”

“
Sí.
Someday.”

The sound of someone clearing their throat made us all turn. The Professor was standing behind her. He waved when she turned and caught his eye. “Did I hear correctly, you're in need of a new quote?”

A slight blush rose in Mom's cheeks. “You did, indeed.”

“Indeed.” He tilted his head. “Might I join you?”

Mom nodded.

The Professor looked at the tray of coffees. “Am I interrupting something?”

“Not at all,” Mom said, touching the sleeve of his tweed jacket. “We were just finishing a tasting of one of Andy's newest coffees before the lunch rush hits.”

“Ah. Of course.” The Professor removed a pair of black reading glasses from his breast pocket. He put them on and then turned to read the board. “That's one of my favorites. It's a shame you have to take it down.”

“We don't have to, but it's been up there for a week. I think it's time,” Mom replied.

The Professor looked at each of us—Carlos, me, then Sterling and Mom. He tapped his fingers to his chin. His eyes sparkled. “I believe I have the perfect quote for you.”

“Yes?” Mom waited for his response.

He removed his reading glasses and motioned with his hands as if he was on a theater stage. “‘All the world is a birthday cake, so take a piece, but not too much.'”

“Shakespeare?” I asked.

“Nope. George Harrison.”

I looked at Mom. “The Beatle?”

“One and the same,” the Professor said. “He's another favorite of mine, and I'd say he has a knack for the Bard's style, don't you think?”

Mom rolled her eyes. “You're too much.”

“Maybe we should put it up there and see if people know the difference,” I suggested.

“Let's do it.” Mom assembled our coffee cups on the tray. “In fact we can make it into a contest. The first customer to guess correctly gets a coffee on the house.”

“I'm sure Andy will love that,” I said.

“Did you need something, Doug, or is this just a nice surprise?”

The Professor placed his hand over hers. “Seeing you is always lovely, Helen.” There was a heaviness to his tone.

Mom's walnut eyes sparkled. “Doug, stop. You're going to embarrass me in front of the kids.”

The Professor removed his hand and cleared his throat again. “Many apologies.”

“Don't worry about me. I have to get back to work anyway,” I said.

“Might I beg a moment of your time before you go?” the Professor asked.

I pointed to my chest. “Me?”

“Yes. I have a few questions about the murder this morning that I need to discuss with you.” He massaged his temples.

“Murder?” Mom's eyes shot to the Professor and then back to me. “Juliet Montague Capshaw, you didn't say anything about a murder.”

“I didn't…”

The Professor spoke before I could spit out a lie. “She did not know that the victim had been murdered. The coroner confirmed that fact mere minutes ago. Mindy Nolan did not take her own life. She was killed.”

 

Chapter Seven

Mom squeezed the Professor's arm. “Oh, Doug, I'm so sorry.”

The Professor rested his hand on top of hers. “King Richard III said it best, ‘What ugly sights of death within mine eyes.'”

“I can't imagine.” Mom's voice choked a bit. “Can I make you something?”

“That would be lovely.” The Professor smiled, but there was a sadness behind his kind eyes.

Mom saw it too. She caught my eye and frowned. Then she started slicing whole-grain bread. “You two go talk up front. I'll bring you some lunch.”

The Professor stepped aside. “Juliet, after you.”

I walked to the dining room. The lunch rush would be in full swing within the hour, but for the moment there was a lull. I pointed to a two-person table near the pastry case. “Is this okay?”

“Yes, please sit.” The Professor removed his scarf and placed his tweed jacket on the back of the chair.

I sat and waited for him to open a well-used moleskin notebook. He flipped to a blank page and looked up at me. “I'm sorry to disturb your work. I have a few questions that I need to ask you and then I'll be out of your way.”

“It's not a problem,” I said. “Mindy was murdered?”

He sighed and glanced outside at ShakesBurgers. “Yes. I'm afraid that she was.”

“How do you know? I mean, I don't need the details, but how can you tell?”

“That's the coroner's job. We suspected that whoever killed Mindy tried to make it look like a suicide. There were bruising patterns, among other things, that led us to believe someone else had a hand in her death.” His voice sounded weary as he spoke. The Professor, despite being serious about Shakespeare, usually had a lightness about him. That was missing today. I wondered if the investigation was disturbing him.

I tried to keep my face neutral. Thomas had hinted about the same thing. Now it had been confirmed by the medical examiner.

“Establishing time of death is going to be critical in this investigation, which is why I'm here.” The Professor flipped back a page in his notebook. “You said you thought you arrived at ShakesBurgers at six-twenty this morning, is that correct?”

“I think so but I'm not entirely sure. I wasn't really paying attention to the clock.”

“Can you take a minute and walk me through what you did, leading up to finding Mindy?”

I told the Professor how I'd stopped at the Green Goblin, delivered the rest of the orders, and walked across the street to the plaza.

“And you think you crossed the street at six-twenty?” he asked as he removed his reading glasses from his pocket and placed them on the tip of his nose.

“I wish I had paid better attention. That's just a guess. I left Torte at six and I was probably at the Green Goblin for ten minutes. You could check with Craig, maybe he was paying attention to the clock.”

“Thomas is there right now.”

“Can I ask you something?”

The Professor placed his pencil on top of his notebook. “Of course.”

At that moment Mom arrived with a bowl of tomato orange soup and a grilled cheese sandwich. She set it in front of the Professor and patted him on the shoulder. “Eat.”

I stared at his bowl. The soup was a beautiful coral color. “Did you add cream to that, Mom?”

Mom pursed her lips together and shook her head. “Oh ye of little faith.” She pointed to the bowl. “What do you think?”

The soup was thick and a creamy color of blood orange. “It looks perfect. You blended it too?”

“I saw your notes back there.” Mom winked.

“Thanks for finishing it.”

The Professor ladled soup onto his spoon. Steam rose from the bowl. He blew on the spoon and had a taste. “It's excellent. Thank you.”

“Eat the sandwich too. It's Havarti with just a hint of dill.”

“You're too good to me, Helen.”

Mom grinned and motioned for him to eat. “I'll leave you two to talk.”

Her solution to every problem is food. Whenever a customer is feeling down or in need of a friendly ear, Mom will bring them a plate of pastries or a warm bowl of soup. It works like a charm. People open up to her. Fortunately, it doesn't show on her waistline. I watched as she danced back into the kitchen. She could pass for my older sister with her trim figure and shoulder-length bob.

“You wanted to ask me something, I believe?” The Professor bit into the gooey grilled cheese.

“Is there a reason why it's so important that you know the exact time I got to ShakesBurgers this morning?”

The Professor wiped his chin with a cloth napkin. “We're trying to establish time of death. The coroner thinks that Mindy was killed sometime between five and six-thirty
A.M.
”

“I know I was there before six-thirty. I wasn't gone that long, and I always try to be back to Torte before the morning rush starts.”

“That's very helpful. We want to make the time-of-death window as tight as possible.” The Professor made a note. His fingers were stained with butter from the grilled cheese. They left a thumbprint mark on the page.

“Are you saying that Mindy might have been killed right before I got there?”

“It's highly possible.”

“What about Mathew? He was there too.”

“I'm aware of that fact.” The Professor met my eyes across the table.

“Do you think Mathew could have killed her? He said he was trying to find something to stop the bleeding, but maybe…” I trailed off.

“Perhaps. Do not let your eyes deceive you though.” The Professor finished his lunch. He asked me a few more questions and then stood. “Thank you for your time, Juliet, you've been most helpful. Most helpful indeed.”

I didn't feel helpful. What did the Professor mean by letting my eyes deceive me? He had a way of speaking in code that I'd never been able to decipher. I had more questions now than I had before. A gust of cold came over me and it wasn't only from the fact that I was sitting next to the front door. What if I had walked in on Mathew killing Mindy?

 

Chapter Eight

The Professor left and I returned to the kitchen. It was a good thing. The lunch crowd was double the normal size. Word had spread. Everyone wanted a side of gossip with their soup. Stacks of handwritten order tickets backed up on the front counter. Sterling scrambled to jot down each order, collect payments, and box lunches to go.

The tomato orange soup was a hit. Mom and I kept an assembly line of grilled cheese sandwiches rotating in the Panini press. She sliced thick cuts of Gouda, Havarti, white cheddar, and swiss cheese. I buttered bread and managed the Panini maker. The combination of the rich soup and cheesy sandwiches had created a line out the front door.

I suspected that customers were looking for comfort food as an escape from the darkness of Mindy's murder. The winter sun had warmed the temperature outside. Usually soup and grilled cheese is a bestseller on cold and rainy days. Today was an exception.

When the line finally thinned, Mom wiped her brow. “Wow, that was something.”

“You're telling me.”

“How many soup-and-sandwich combos do you think we sold?”

I walked over to the stove and titled the empty stock pot for her to see. “By the looks of it, a lot. I think Stephanie scraped this clean with a spatula for the last bowl.”

“Whew. I need a nap.” She brushed bread crumbs from her hands. “How are you holding up?”

“I'm okay.”

“Juliet?” She raised one eyebrow.

“Really, Mom. I'm fine. Like everyone else who came in for lunch today, I'm shaken up, but I'm still standing.”

“I can't believe that Mindy was murdered.” Mom ran a sponge under hot water in the sink and then began wiping down the counter. “What did Doug want to talk to you about?”

“He wanted to know when I got to ShakesBurgers. They think Mindy was killed right before I got there.”

Mom dropped the sponge. “Oh, Juliet.”

“I know.” I scooped chunks of bread heels into a plastic bag. They don't work well for grilled cheese, but they make great croutons or can be used in bread pudding. “Hey, Mom, is something wrong with the Professor?”

She returned to wiping the butcher block. “You noticed?”

“He didn't seem like himself. He's usually so—I don't know how to explain it—steady, I guess.”

“I know.” She frowned. “I thought so too. It has to be tough on him—another murder investigation, here in our beloved city.”

“Yeah.” I thought about seeing Mindy's lifeless body on the floor. At least I didn't get a closeup look. The Professor and Thomas had to examine every piece of evidence.