Final Fondue (A Five-Ingredient Mystery) (11 page)

Granddad’s eyes lit up. “Sarina and Noah both had the opportunity to chase after her when they split up.”

Mom straightened the stack of student papers on the coffee table. “They’re Jennifer’s friends. Why would they want to run after her?”

Val thought of an answer that might convince Granddad she wasn’t the strangler’s target. “Maybe Sarina or Noah wanted to do more than scare Jennifer. Neither of them has an alibi for Fawn’s murder. Whoever killed Fawn might kill a second time out of fear of exposure, or just for the heck of it.”

“Just for the heck of it. Hmm.” Granddad glanced at his video collection across the room. “I see a connection between what happened tonight and the strangling, but that doesn’t mean the same person killed Fawn and ran after Jennifer.”

Mom frowned. “You’re speaking in riddles, Pop. Explain what you mean.”

“There’s a pattern. It may not solve the mystery of what happened yesterday, but it could give us a clue to what will happen tomorrow.”

Val agreed with her mother about Granddad’s riddle-speak. He’d gone from Codger Cook to Delphic Oracle. “Give
us
a clue what you’re talking about. What pattern?”

“Use your noodle.” He pointed to the ceiling. “Go upstairs and walk down the hall. You can’t miss it.”

The hall? Oh, the posters!
Val thunked herself on the forehead. “I get it. Someone strangled with a rope. Someone pursued through a cornfield. Welcome to Hitchcock.”

Val licked her thumb and held it up toward Granddad as if giving him a gold star. He’d hit on the common thread in the strangling of Fawn and the pursuit of Jennifer. “
Rope
and
North by Northwest
. And the murder in
Rope
is committed just for the heck of it.” Was that true also of Fawn’s murder?

From the sofa her mother waved her arm like an A-student with all the answers. “Hello? In
North by Northwest
Cary Grant ran from a crop duster not a person.”

Val could raise objections to her grandfather’s theory, but that wasn’t one of them. “For an English teacher, you’re awfully literal, Mom. Let’s assume, for the sake of argument, that there’s a connection to the posters. Does that help us figure out who the culprit is, Granddad?”

“It narrows down who chased Jennifer to the people staying in this house. No one else knew about the posters.”

Val shook her head. “Jennifer or the others could have told Payton.”

Mom raised her index finger. “Who’s Payton?”

“Jennifer’s fiancé. He’s staying with his parents at their house on the bay. His mother arranged for his ex-girlfriend, Whitney Oglethorpe, to spend the weekend at the house.” Val gave her mother a long look. Would Mom see a mirror of herself in Payton’s interfering mother? “I glimpsed a woman who resembled Whitney leaving the maze. Whitney looks athletic and could have chased Jennifer.”

Granddad’s eyebrows shot up. “If Payton knew about the posters, he could have told Whitney about them. Why would she have run after Jennifer?”

“To scare her into leaving Bayport. Then Whitney would have Payton all to herself this weekend.”

“You’ve both been watching too much Hitchcock.” Mom pointed to the video collection on the shelves near the fireplace. “Jennifer was pursued in a cornfield because that’s where the maze was. Why assume the person running after her targeted her specifically? Didn’t the maze owner hire people to dress in costumes and scare the visitors?”

Her mother had a theory that would let her sleep tonight. Val decided to support it rather than argue against it. “That’s true, Mom. And Jennifer wasn’t the only person frightened tonight at the maze. Gangs of teenagers were running around scaring people and making them scatter. That’s how Jennifer got separated from Noah and Sarina.”

Mom gathered her students’ papers and stood up. “One of those kids probably peeled off from the gang and ran after her. You’re dreaming up complicated explanations when simpler ones are more likely. Someone who doesn’t know Jennifer chased her in the maze as an ugly prank. Or she panicked when she found herself alone and imagined someone was following her.”

Granddad stroked his chin. “Possible, but not the only explanation.”

Mom gave him and Val a quick hug. “You two can stay up all night spinning fantasies, but I’m going to bed.”

“Promise me you’ll bolt your door,” Granddad said.

Mom held up her right hand as if taking an oath. “I promise, though I won’t lose sleep worrying that one of your guests will attack me.” She went into the hall and up the staircase.

Granddad motioned to Val. “Sit closer to me, Val. Then we can both keep an eye on the door and make sure the wedding group doesn’t sneak up on us. We need to talk more about this Hitchcock business.”

Val changed seats, moving to the sofa near her grandfather’s chair. “Mom’s probably right about the Hitchcock connection. It’s far-fetched.”

“I’d be more willing to believe there isn’t a Hitchcock connection if a knife hadn’t disappeared.”

“We’ve had knives go missing before. They always show up.”
Would the fondue fork show up too?
“There isn’t a Hitchcock movie with a fondue fork as a weapon, is there?”

“No, but there are knifings. In
Rear Window
Jimmy Stewart suspects the man across the way of using a knife to kill his wife and a saw to dismember her.”

“Ouch.” Val had forgotten the plot of
Rear Window
. “That covers three of the four posters upstairs. We don’t need to worry about the remaining one. I doubt our Hitchcock killer, if we have one, can make birds swoop down and peck us to death. Noah said he was a Hitchcock fan. Does Sarina know anything about those movies?”

“Enough. When I took them upstairs to show them the rooms, I told them whoever stayed in the
Birds
and
North by Northwest
rooms would have to share the hall bath. Sarina said that was okay with her, as long there wasn’t a
Psycho
poster outside it. No worries, I said. The bathroom has a tub, not a shower stall. She and Noah laughed, and Jennifer said she didn’t get the joke.”

Val had watched
Psycho
once, but with her eyes shut during the gruesome knifing in the shower. She crossed the room to the shelves with Granddad’s videos, removed
Psycho
, and slipped it behind the other movies in the collection. “Out of sight, out of mind. I hope you’re wrong about a Hitchcock-inspired killer.”

“Right or wrong, we know one thing for sure—someone strangled a woman who might have been mistaken for Jennifer or for you. Don’t let down your guard, and don’t go to the maze tomorrow night.”

“No more haunted mazes for me. I promise.” Val kissed him on the cheek. “Goodnight, Granddad. Please don’t worry about me.”

He levered himself out of his chair with effort. “I should have stretched my legs sooner.” He took car keys from his pocket.

“Are you going somewhere this late?”

“I’m driving behind you to Monique’s house, making sure no one else does.”

“Don’t do that. You can’t see well driving at night.”

He walked toward the hall. “I know the peninsula road like the back of my hand. I’ll be right behind you and watch you until you’re inside her house.”

Useless to argue with him, once he’d made up his mind. “Okay, Granddad, but please phone me when you get home, or else
I’m
going to worry about
you
.”

“I’ll call you with my cell phone. The hall phone isn’t private with folks staying here.”

* * *

Twenty minutes later, Val waved to her grandfather as the door to Monique’s house opened.

A plump, gray-haired woman let her in and extended her hand. “Hello, I’m Deedee Mott, and you must be Val. Monique told me she was expecting you.”

Val shook hands with Monique’s mother-in-law. The aroma of baked cookies permeated the house. Val sniffed butter, sugar, and chocolate. A faint pungent smell mixed with it. “Something smells great.”

“I made chocolate chip cookies.” The woman lowered her voice. “Monique made a large batch of her—uh—creative cookies to enter in the dessert cook-off tomorrow. I didn’t think the children would care for them, so I whipped up a batch of the good old-fashioned kind. Come into the kitchen and try them.”

“Thank you. I love chocolate chip cookies.” She followed Mrs. Mott into the kitchen-family room. “What did kind of cookies did Monique bake?”

“Something with weird spices.” Mrs. Mott pointed to a plate stacked with chocolate chip cookies. “Help yourself to
my
cookies.”

Val took a bite of one. Crispy outside. Chewy inside. Lots of chips. Amazing how a chocolate chip cookie could almost make up for a bad day.

Monique bustled into the room. “Hi, Val. I brought up the photos I took at your booth on my computer. Oh, you’re having Granny’s cookies. You should try one of mine. They came out great.”

Val held up her hand. “No, save your cookies for the dessert contest. You’ll have to give out lots of samples. The chocolate chip cookies are fantastic, Mrs. Mott.”

“Thank you. I’ll say goodnight now. Good to meet you, Val, and I hope—” She gave a startled cry and pointed to the sliding glass door to the backyard. “I just saw someone out there. In the backyard.”

Monique rushed to the door. “I don’t see anyone.”

Val followed her cousin and peered out. “Neither do I.” The exterior fixtures lit up the perimeter of the house, but beyond a distance of four yards away, total darkness prevailed. Dozens of people could lurk there without being seen from the house.

Monique closed the vertical blinds, making it impossible for anyone to peek inside. “What did the person look like?” She sounded more curious than concerned.

Her mother-in-law hugged herself. “A man, I think. I saw him for a second near the patio and then he disappeared. I’m going to wake up Maverick and tell him.”

Monique rolled her eyes as her mother-in-law scurried down the hall to the bedroom wing. “Where she lives, the neighbors are close enough that she can gossip across the driveway. She says she feels isolated here. She’s been jumpy ever since she heard about the murder.”

Mrs. Mott returned to the kitchen with her son in tow.

Maverick wore a T-shirt and running shorts. He raised a hand in greeting to Val, his eyes half open and his hair tousled. He crossed the room toward the sliding door. “I’ll check outside, Ma.”

She followed him and grabbed his arm. “No! The strangler might be out there. Just call the police.” She wrung her hands.

“Okay.” He put his arm around his mother and looked over her head at his wife, who shook her head. “It’ll take half an hour for a deputy to get here. And whoever you saw is probably gone by now. How about we station ourselves at the windows for the next five minutes? If any of us sees something moving, I’ll call 911. You go to the window in the living room, Ma. We have motion-sensing lights on the front of the house. If anyone’s out there, the lights will flip on.”

“Suppose whoever is there sees me at the window?”

“We’ll turn off the living room lights so no one can see you, and you can stand to the side of the window.”

Val flipped off the kitchen lights and peered between the slats of the sliding door’s blinds. Monique and Maverick stood sentry at the windows in the bedroom wing. Five minutes later, after no one had seen anything move outside, Maverick called them off guard duty, coaxed his mother to go to bed, and announced he was going back to sleep.

Monique set her laptop on the kitchen counter and brought up the photos she’d taken at Val’s booth. “You and Jennifer don’t look all that similar in crab hats in the daylight. Let’s see what happens when I apply a night effect to this photo.” She clicked around the screen of her photo-editing software.

Val watched as day turned to night in the photo. “Yes, I look more like Jennifer under the dim light, but the question is whether either of us looks like Fawn in a crab hat. I didn’t have time to search online for a photo of her.”

“I found one on her Facebook page. She hadn’t posted anything for a long time, but the page had a headshot of her. I’m working on layering a crab hat onto the photo.”

Val’s phone chimed. Granddad’s cell phone number popped up on the display. She thanked him for remembering to call her. He asked to talk to Monique. Surprised, Val passed the phone to her cousin.

“Hello.” Monique listened for twenty seconds and then said, “I can do that.... They’ll be ready for Val to take to you in the morning.... You’re welcome.” She handed Val the phone.

“What was that about?”

“He saw me taking pictures of the wedding group near your booth. He wants headshots of each of them, with and without crab hats. I’ll give him one of Fawn too. I’ll crop the photos and print them tonight. He didn’t say why he wanted them.”

“I don’t know what he’s going to do with them.” And Val was too tired to care. She yawned.

“You look worn out. Why don’t you go to bed? You have another two days of working in the booth.”

“Okay. Goodnight.” Val left the kitchen, not expecting a good night. She’d probably dream about a zombie chef in a crop duster chasing her through a cornfield.

She put her head on the pillow and woke up when her phone’s alarm tune played. Nightmares hadn’t disturbed her sleep after all.

Unlike the day before, Val didn’t smell coffee brewing. She went into the kitchen. Monique wasn’t there. Maybe she was sleeping in.

Val was trying to figure out how to get plain coffee from the espresso-latte-cappuccino machine on the counter when the sliding door opened and Monique came in. It was starting to get light outside, though the sun wouldn’t rise for another hour.

Monique slid the door closed with a bang. “My mother-in-law was right. There
was
someone out there last night.”