Death at the Day Lily Cafe (25 page)

Annie talked as we ate. She mentioned her job, the latest zombie series, anything that popped into her head. Custer chimed in now and then, but he was more subdued in the presence of his uncle.

After the pizzas and salad were consumed, I cleared the table and put on some soft music. “Can we open another bottle of wine, Mom?” Annie said. “I'm having fun. Oh, and let's light some candles.” She hopped up and grabbed two candlesticks. “We used to do this when I was growing up,” she said to Custer.

“Drink wine?”

“No, silly.” She gave him a light swat on the head. “Light candles after dinner and sit around and talk for hours. Right, Mom?”

I smiled and fetched some matches from a drawer.

“Really?” Custer said, trying to take it in. “You lit candles after dinner and sat around the table? And you just talked?”

“Yeah.” Annie nodded her head. “About everything.”

“We ate in front of the TV for pretty much every meal,” Custer said.

I opened another bottle of wine, not sure if it was a good idea, but I wanted to continue the evening. After refilling and distributing our glasses, I lifted mine and said, “To Dickens, for encouraging me to bake. If not for him, I might never have opened the café.”

We toasted, and Tyler took a long sip. “He's a damn good dog.” He closed his eyes for a moment and set his glass on the table.

“Tyler,” Annie said, “I finally met your brother.”

My eyes shot over to Annie. “You did? Where?”

Custer monitored my reaction.

“Last night. We were at Joey's listening to some music. He came over to our table.” She said to Tyler, “You two look a lot alike. Only he has more wrinkles.”

“Nah. My brother is much better looking than me.” He gave Annie a small smile.

“What did he want?” I said.

“Just to say hi,” Annie said. “I mean, Custer
is
his son. It doesn't seem so strange to me that he would come over and say hi.” She turned to face Custer. “I know you don't get along, and I understand why, but he was sort of nice to me.”

I clenched my jaw.

Custer lifted his chin. “You see him yet, Tyler?”

“No,” Tyler grunted. “Not if I can help it.”

“But he's your brother,” Annie said.

“Not really,” Tyler said. “Never really was my brother.”

Annie searched Custer's face. “You okay with this conversation?”

“None of this is breaking news. I like to pretend I don't have a father. But that doesn't always work out so well.”

“No,” Tyler said. “In fact, it got you put on probation.”

I checked Annie's reaction, but she seemed completely unfazed.

“It wasn't Custer's fault,” she said.

“You know he's on probation?”

“Of course.” She smiled at Custer. “We don't keep secrets from each other. Aren't you the one who taught me keeping secrets is destructive, Mom?”

“Everyone knows why you're on probation but me.” I glanced at Tyler. “Could someone clue me in?”

Custer leaned back in his chair. “My illustrious father had me charged with assault after he sucker-punched me in the gut.”

“Oh,” I said, “how awful.”

“It happened, and I'm trying to put it behind me. But when he shows up in town, he makes that a little hard to do.”

“I think it's better if we all just stay out of his way,” Tyler said. “Once he gets what he wants, he'll leave town as fast as he can.”

“What does he want?” Annie said.

“I hope you don't mind me saying this, Custer,” Tyler said. “Butch has many vices, gambling being one of them. When he runs out of money, he usually starts nosing around Cardigan.”

“Will he ask you for money, Custer?” Annie said.

“If he thought I had some, hell yes. He would ask his preacher if he thought of it. And maybe snatch some out of the offering plate on his way out the door.”

“You let me know if you need some help,” Tyler said.

“I can handle him.”

“That's what you said last time.”

“Thank you for the offer.” Custer stared down at the table then looked back at his uncle. “I know you mean it.”

“I'm always here for you. Don't forget that.”

“I have a question,” Annie said. “How did Custer's dad turn out to be such a loser when you two are so great?”

“Simple,” Tyler said. “Custer's dad's a narcissist.”

“‘One who advertises himself too much is ignored,'” Custer said, quoting Lao Tzu again.

“That's exactly right.” Tyler looked at Annie. “I'm sure you are aware of the term. But look it up if you really want to understand all it entails. I did when I was ten, and that's when I stopped expecting anything from my older brother.”

“I'll do it right now.” Annie picked up her phone and typed with her index finger. She waited a moment “Here it is. Okay, narcissism: extreme selfishness, with a grandiose view of one's own abilities and an insatiable thirst for admiration. And a complete lack of ability to feel empathy for others.” She looked up. “Has he always been like that?”

Tyler nodded. “Focus on the grandiose view of his own abilities.”

Custer shifted in his seat. “Subject change?”

“It's harder for you being his son.” Tyler studied his nephew. “A lot more than being his brother. I probably realized that on some level but I see it now. You can't ignore him the way I can.” He finished his wine and cleared his throat. “I'm sorry if I haven't done more for you.” Tyler's gaze was intense, exuding emotion, his eyes watery.

“It's okay, man.”

“You're a good kid, Custer. Don't ever forget that.”

Custer scooted back from the table. “Anybody notice the Orioles just swept the Red Sox?”

*   *   *

After more conversation about anything but Butch, Annie walked Custer out to his motorcycle. I made him drink an espresso and conducted my own makeshift sobriety test. No one had consumed as much wine as Tyler, which is why I insisted he stay. Once I heard Annie's bedroom door click shut, I took Dickens outside and brought him back to his bed, giving him a long scratch behind the ears. I found Tyler on the sofa I had already covered with sheets and a blanket and two fluffed-up pillows.

He lay on the blanket fully clothed, his arm draped over his forehead, his shoeless feet crossed at the ankles. “Hey,” I said.

“I told you I didn't need any sheets.”

I put a glass of water on the end table and perched on the edge of the sofa beside him. “Are the pillows okay?”

He shifted his head to look at me, his arm still on his forehead. “You know I hate this.”

“I can't help myself. It's who I am. You should know that by now.”

His face softened, and he folded his hands over his stomach. “Yeah. I guess I do.”

“I'm sorry about Dickens.”

“Me, too.” He continued to gaze at me.

“What a conversation with Annie and Custer, right?”

“Butch was like the elephant in the living room,” Tyler said. “I'm glad we talked about him.”

“Do you think Custer's okay?”

“He'll be better once Butch gets the hell out of Dodge.”

“What you said to him? That was incredible. You helped him a lot, I think, by acknowledging how hard it is for him.”

“We aren't out of the woods yet, Rosalie. Custer thinks he can handle his father. And he rarely asks for help. The first time he asked me for anything was when he wanted to apply for the job at the café. But he doesn't like feeling indebted to either of us. It's not his thing. He's pretty stubborn that way.”

“A family trait, perhaps?”

“Well, yes. There's that. But I'm getting a bad vibe about Butch this time. He's more aggressive than usual.”

“There's a lot of money at stake.” I straightened the blanket edge. “What do you think about Custer and Annie's relationship?”

“I didn't see any red flags. Other than her being a little besotted.”

“Annie loves hard.”

“And that's
your
family trait.” Tyler patted the sofa next to him. “Come closer.” He moved his leg so I could scoot in. He gazed up at me.

“I took the pillows off so you would have more—” Tyler cupped my head in his hand and kissed me deeply.

“Oh,” I said, after a luxuriously lovely kiss.

He lay his head back on the pillow and smiled at me provocatively. “I've been wanting to do that since the day I met you.”

“Really?”

“Hope that's okay.”

“It's not just the wine?”

“Maybe.” Tyler was still grinning. “You sleep well, Rosalie.”

 

F
ORTY
-
TWO

Tyler was gone when I awoke the next morning. I found the sheets and blankets folded neatly on the ottoman. I couldn't stop thinking about our kiss as I went about my routine. The thought of it sent a surge of warmth through me and lightened my heart. I could still feel his lips on mine. But then I remembered what he'd said about the wine. Maybe he regretted acting impulsively. I had learned long ago that the urges or brilliant insights I had when I was a little tipsy often lost their allure in the morning. Perhaps Tyler had come to the same realization.

The rain had moved on and it was a glorious sunny day with unseasonably cool temperatures. Today would be a fairly easy day for Custer. Glenn had been making a list of the customers' favorite specials so far, and I'd come up with a brand-new fixed menu. The only special today was a grilled quinoa burger with a creamy curry mayo that I'd whipped up yesterday during the lull.

“Omelet,” Crystal called. She was on the small step stool, a piece of neon chalk in her hand.

“Margherita,” I said.

“How—”

Glenn had already begun to spell it.

I placed a vase filled with lavender stems on the table Glenn was setting. “How was your martini?”

“Very satisfying.”

I put my hands on the back of a chair. “Do tell.”

“It seems just about everyone in town was at the tavern the night CJ died.” Glenn smiled.

“Jake?”

“No, but CJ was mouthing off about Kevin and Jake. According to Chuck, it angered a lot of the patrons.” Glenn set the last spoon down and straightened the topper. He peered at me over his glasses. “Jamie was there with him.”

“Jamie?” I said, surprised.

“And our regular, Jackson. And are you ready for this?”

My eyes widened. “What?”

“Butch came in late that night. After CJ had supposedly gone home. Chuck said it was almost time to close, but he gave him a drink on the house so he wouldn't stay too long.”

“Was there anything unusual about Butch? Did he seem upset?”

“I don't know the answer to that. Chuck didn't say.”

“Glenn, did the sheriff ever question Chuck? I mean, shouldn't he be asking these questions?”

“Not that I know of. Speaking of the sheriff, have you seen him?”

“No. I wonder how he's doing after learning Jamie is his son.” I checked the door. “I thought Doris would stop by this morning.” I looked back at Glenn. “Let's get through today then stop in and see her. Oh, and Glenn, have you heard whether they let the workers back? Did anyone tell the college CJ stole the money?”

“Maybe Jackson will come in today. We can ask him.”

Crystal approached with a cardboard box. She lifted a mesh bag tied with a silk ribbon. The label affixed to the ribbon read:
Crystal Sterling Herbal Teas
.

“Oh!” I lifted another from the box. I held it to my nose and breathed in the enticing mixture of scents. “You did it, sweetie.”

Glenn gave her a warm hug. “This is terrific, my dear.”

“We'll serve them today,” I said. “Can you display them somewhere on the bar? I have a wicker basket in the kitchen.”

“I have different kinds,” Crystal said. “I have a little card that explains what they're good for. The ribbons are color coded.”

“I have to buy them from you so we can serve them,” I said.

“We can figure that out later.” She smiled. “I typed up a menu insert about the teas, too.”

“All right, so when someone orders tea, you or Glenn can bring them the basket and they can choose. Oh, this will be so great. I'll get the basket.”

“And we're off,” Glenn said, and headed for the door.

*   *   *

Janice and Gretchen were admiring each other's outfits. They had both ordered the quinoa burger, no bun. “Hey, Rose Red,” Janice said when I returned to the bar. “Where's Jackson? Isn't he usually here for lunch?”

“That's a good question.” I refilled their water glasses. “Are the workers back at the college?”

“It's Saturday, girlfriend,” Janice said.

“Maybe Jackson finally found another gig,” Gretchen offered.

Glenn approached and placed his hand on Gretchen's back. “Pedigree,” he said.

Gretchen smiled. “I'm sorry?”

“That's the answer to the crossword clue you were working on. It has to be. It came to me last night while I was falling asleep.”

“Oh. I think you're right. I'll give it a go.”

Glenn smiled and went back into the kitchen.

I noticed a tall man with dark muttonchops at the hostess stand. He wore a pair of mirrored sunglasses and a Yankees ball cap pulled low on his forehead. I walked over to him. “One?”

“Okay if I just have a cup of joe?”

“Yes, of course. Do you mind sitting at the bar?”

“I prefer it.”

He was dressed in black jeans and a snug black T-shirt that muffin-topped over the sides of his belt. His black cowboy boots clicked rhythmically on the wood floors as if someone were playing a timber drum.