Gone with the Wool (7 page)

She adjusted her feet, giving her brother a look that said she knew that what she was doing bugged him. “I should have figured that all those other goody-goody types couldn't wait to tell the cops about the argument I had with that woman.”

“So then you're sure that you didn't stab her?” I said.

Chloe let out a snorty kind of laugh. “Of course not. Why would I do that?”

When I heard Dane let out his breath in relief, I realized he hadn't asked her if she'd done it. I think he was afraid of the answer. Dane stepped in. “Chloe, I told you if you insisted on going through with the princess nonsense, there was going to be trouble. If you wanted to do it, you should have changed your appearance.”

“I did,” Chloe said with a smile, jutting her shoulder out so we could see her monarch tattoo.

Dane shook his head in frustration. “This is serious. Do you understand that at any moment the cops can come in here and arrest you? There is nothing I can do to help you. I've been ordered to stay away from the case.”

“Maybe I should head for Brazil,” she said. Dane's eyes flared with anger, and she quickly added that she was just joking. “You said Casey is kind of a detective. She'll figure
out a way to get me off the hook. Won't you?” She looked at me, and I nodded and said I'd do my best. “Well, there you go,” she said, as if my saying it was a done deal.

“You really shouldn't try to get back in the Princess Court,” Dane said.

She stood up and put her hand on her hip and looked down at her brother. “No way. I'm in it to the end.” She didn't wait to see his reaction and left the room.

Dane sat shaking his head for a few moments. “She doesn't get it. It's like she's poking the town in the eye with her attitude and those clothes.” He put his head in his hands. “Where did I go wrong?”

I knew he'd done the best he could and imagined how tough it must have been on both of them when he'd had to deal with all her girl stuff. I knew from both of them that he'd done embarrassing things for her. Having an alcoholic mother and an absent father can't have been easy.

I was going to try to say something reassuring, but Dane's composure changed suddenly. He sat upright and seemed to notice for the first time that we were sitting next to each other on the couch.

His lips curved into a mischievous grin. “Is this what it took to get you to finally come over and sit next to me?”

I gave him a playful punch on the arm, my way of saying I thought it was a ridiculous comment. But even so, I moved farther toward the side of the couch.

This time he laughed. “What kind of maniac do you think I am? One touch on the arm and I jump all over you?”

I didn't say anything, and his eyes lit up with a new possibility. “Maybe I'm not the problem,” he said teasingly. “Maybe you're afraid that one brush against my arm and you'll be all over me.”

“Nobody is going to be all over anybody,” I said, getting up. “I have to go home.”

“About that,” Dane said. “What's going on with Sammy and his parents? Are they all there waiting for you?”

“You heard as much as I did. Who knows what surprises are waiting for me at home.”

“Maybe you need a police escort,” he joked.

I passed on his offer and headed for home, not sure what to expect.

I drove my car from the Vista Del Mar parking lot across the street and up my driveway, where I pulled next to Sammy's BMW. I took a deep breath and headed to the back door. Julius was sitting outside waiting for me. I know it was probably my imagination, but it seemed like his yellow eyes were asking me what was going on.

I took the spare key out from under the rock near the back door. As I walked into the kitchen, Sammy came in from the other part of the house.

I looked around him, trying to size up the situation.

“It's okay, they're not here,” he said. “I'm sorry, Case. They completely surprised me. They were at some medical meeting in San Francisco and decided it would be ‘fun' to show up unannounced.”

I took off my beige fleece jacket and then pulled out a chair. “I think you have some 'splaining to do.” It was a pretty
lame impression of Ricky Ricardo talking to Lucy in the old
I Love Lucy
shows, but Sammy got it and laughed.

There was a puppy dog look about his eyes when he looked at me, and I figured something big was coming.

“You know what my parents, particularly my father, think of me doing magic,” he began. “I couldn't tell them I was staying in Cadbury because I was finally getting to do my act.”

“It's not like you gave up your urology career,” I said, and he winced.

“The practice I had in Chicago was much more prestigious than what I'm doing here. I'm just filling in for a guy who took a year off. They knew there had to be more to it than I just wanted a change, so I told them I was here with you. That we were together—living together, you know, in one house.”

“I get it,” I said. “And of course they shared the news with my parents.”

“Just recently. I told them it was a secret, but they blabbed anyway.”

I shrugged it off. “Fine. I won't say anything while they're here. How long can they be staying?”

“There's another problem,” he said. “When they called me, they were already checked into the Butterfly Inn. It was too weird. They were in the parlor having a glass of wine, and I answered my cell in my room just a short distance away.”

Even though Sammy had been staying in Cadbury for a while, he was still living at the Butterfly Inn. The B and B had given him a large room on the main floor, which must have been a library or study in the days when the imposing Victorian was a personal residence.

“I had to arrange to meet them somewhere just so I could sneak out of the place and tell the owners not to tell them
that I was living there.” Sammy put his head down in worry. “You see the problem. I can't go home while they're here.”

This was all getting a little intense, and I'd had a long night. I offered to make us some cocoa. I used the instant packet kind but added milk instead of water.

“Thanks,” he said when I handed him a steaming mug. “By the way, my folks really liked your place.”

“They did not,” I said. I knew them better than he thought. “How much did you let them look around?” I thought of my bedroom and the unmade bed. Then I considered the absurdity of being upset if his mother thought I was a bad housekeeper.

“Okay, maybe what they said was it would be nice as a getaway place for a weekend. And don't worry, I kept them away from the bedroom.”

There was an
and
coming, and I knew what it was. “Let's just cut to the chase. You want to know if you can stay here while your parents are in town, right?”

His whole demeanor brightened, and he reached over and hugged me. “Case, like I always say, you're the only one who gets me. See, you know what I want before I even ask.”

“But it will have to be in the guest house,” I said.

“Fine, great, no problem,” he said, seeming seriously relieved. “They won't stay long. Probably just a day or so. They can't stay the whole week.” He seemed suddenly worried again.

“I'm sure they'll be gone before the weekend,” I reassured him. “And before they find out you're working as a professional magician.”

“That sounds so good when you say it.” His face lit up, and he hugged me again. “Case, you really are the only one who
understands. If there is ever anything I can do for you . . .” He looked hopeful. “You don't even have to ask—the answer would always be yes.”

I drained the cocoa and was about to suggest he go to the guest quarters when I realized he had no idea what had happened at Vista Del Mar.

I filled him in quickly, including the fact that some people were blaming Rosalie's chili for the loss of the football game. Sammy knew all about that. He was already deeply entrenched in the town and had gone to the game.

“Wow, everyone was sure bummed when those two players got sick,” he said. “But stabbing Rosalie Hardcastle over it seems a little extreme. Still, small towns go crazy about their local teams.”

“But could they have gotten food poisoning from her chili, or from something else they ate?” Sammy's specialty was urology, but he had to know about other medical stuff as well.

“It possibly could have been the chili if it was left out for a long time, or if some of the meat wasn't cooked enough, but most likely it would have come from some kind of contamination after it was made.” He started to go through the different kinds of bacteria that could cause a problem, and I tuned out. The really troubling question was, could my muffins have been the source? I interrupted him.

“Someone yelled out it was the corn muffins I brought.”

“Oh,” Sammy said. “Well, if the eggs had salmonella and the muffins weren't cooked enough that could have been it.”

“They were cooked enough,” I said quickly. I was upset with his answer. I wanted him to say it was impossible for the muffins to be the problem.

“Case, you know it might not have been food poisoning at all. They could have just picked up a norovirus.”

“But is there a way to prove what it was?” I asked, and Sammy thought for a minute.

“If there was anything left over from the food, they could send samples to a lab.” Suddenly Sammy got why I was asking. “You think someone is going to come after you next?” He adjusted himself so he was sitting taller. “Maybe it's good I'll be staying here. I'll be like your bodyguard.” He glanced around. “If it would make you feel safer, I can stay in here with you.”

It was funny—I could feel the different vibe of Monday morning even before I got out of bed. It was almost like I could hear all the shops in town opening. By now I had gotten used to the weather here. October or June—what was really the difference, other than the length of the days? It was always cool and mostly cloudy, but not the gloomy kind of clouds that showed up before it rained. In fact, for all the moisture in the air here, we got amazingly little rain. This morning the sky was a bright white, like the sky had been spread with an even layer of clouds.

I mentally started going through the things I had to do, for the moment forgetting all about Rosalie Hardcastle. Not for long though—Tag called on the landline before I'd even gotten out of bed.

“Rosalie Hardcastle is dead,” he said in a nervous voice.
“It's all over town. I wanted to tell Lucinda, but with all that unplugged stuff, her phone won't work, and it's not the kind of message I want her to see on that board.”

I sat up and put my feet on the cold floor as I let the information sink in. Julius had taken to sleeping on my pillow, and he joined me, sitting close.

“Tag, you need to take a breath,” I said. I knew that Tag had all kinds of issues about orderliness and things being in their correct place, but he still seemed to be overreacting.

“You don't have to worry. Lucinda is safe.” I realized I shouldn't have said that since actually I could only vouch for her safety from the night before. Of course, he caught me on it.

“Then you've seen her this morning?” he said.

“Not exactly, but I'm right across the street. If anything happened, I'd know about it.”

“Now the cops are going to step up their game. They're going to be looking for anyone who had a problem with that woman, aren't they?” he said.

“Are you trying to say you had a problem with her?” I asked.

“No,” he said, too quickly.

“Did you hang around Vista Del Mar after you dropped Lucinda off?”

I heard him take a gulp of air. “I didn't see anything. I don't know anything. I really have to go. Just please tell Lucinda to call me.”

Under the circumstances, he would usually just go to Vista Del Mar and check on her himself. Something was off.

I found some fuzzy slippers and went toward the kitchen. I needed some coffee to clear my head. I heard someone rustling around. Both Julius and I stopped short while I
assessed the situation. The only weapons available were some very long knitting needles sitting in a jar.

Julius kept pace with me as we went to the kitchen. I ran in, holding the long needles out like a fencing sword.

“Geez, a little overreaction, don't you think? Maybe you're the one who stabbed her,” Chloe said, using her hand to push the needle away. “I couldn't take any more of my brother's lectures. You really shouldn't leave your door unlocked.” A chair was pulled out, and a half-drunk glass of orange juice was on the table.

“Thank you again for last night. I was going to bring you breakfast in bed, ” Sammy said, coming in the door. He held up a container with two cups of coffee and a bag that smelled of egg sandwiches. Then he saw Chloe. “Hi, I didn't realize you had company.”

Chloe looked from Sammy to me and shook her head. “And I thought you were different.” She went out the door.

Sammy had never met Chloe. Actually, until the whole Butterfly Princess thing, she had kept a low profile in the small town, mostly hanging out in the tough areas of Seaside. He was surprised to find out she was Dane's sister. “And the chief suspect,” I said.

Sammy was confused, as he still thought Rosalie had been murdered because of the football game, and I had to explain that Chloe was one of the Butterfly Princesses and Rosalie had very publicly kicked her out of the competition.

He looked at the glass of juice. “I came in to tell you about breakfast, but you were still asleep. I thought it would be okay to leave the door unlocked since I was coming right back. I didn't expect to have a Goldilocks show up.”

I shrugged it off, and Sammy put down the coffee and sandwiches. He took the glass to the sink. He pulled out a
chair for me. “Let's eat while it's hot.” He pointed to one of the cups of coffee. “I got you a cappuccino and an egg and half-Swiss, half-cheddar sandwich.” It was exactly what I would have asked for, if he'd consulted me. I saw a little triumphant smile on his lips. I think he was hoping that I would say something about how he really
got
me, too. No matter what he said about being in Cadbury to pursue his magic career, I knew he hoped the real magic would be that we got back together. I did everything I could not to give him false hope.

He ate quickly as he reeled off his morning schedule. He was still a doctor and a surgeon, and was headed into the office. “I'll pick up some of my things later. I got my parents to go whale watching, so I won't have to worry about running into them at the B and B.” He pretended to be very interested in his breakfast suddenly. “My parents are insisting on spending more time with us, both of us. I know this is asking a lot, but could you manage something with us—even a cup of coffee?”

I couldn't say no to Sammy, so I said I would try. He started to gather up the paper cup and wrapping of his sandwich. “I know they're going to want to come by here again. Do you mind if I spread some of my stuff around? If you think you're a detective, it's nothing compared to my mother.” He added a laugh at the end as if it was a joke, but I knew he was one hundred percent serious.

Weren't Sammy and I a pair? Both in our mid-thirties and still so wound up with our parents.

As soon as he left, I got dressed and headed across to Vista Del Mar. The rest of my retreaters would be coming later in the morning, and I had to set up. I saw a couple of cop cars, almost hidden by trees, in the service parking lot at the back
edge of the property. A white van was pulled up in front of the chapel, blocking the view. Now that Rosalie had died, the investigation had changed to homicide, which had stepped everything up. I was sure Kevin St. John was doing everything he could to keep it invisible to the guests. The Lodge was still quiet, with only a few people in the seating area and one guy shooting pool by himself. Nothing was set up, and I had to get the clerk to find someone to round up a table and some chairs for my registration.

At least when I checked on the rooms for my people, all was well. Finally, my table and chairs were set up under the window. I just had to add the tote bags. What a relief that we'd worked it out that the looms weren't going in them. I imagined trying to get the overstuffed tote bags across the street. Visions of rolling round looms danced through my head.

Sammy's coffee had helped me feel alert, but I needed another dose, so I headed for the café. There were a few people at the tables. As usual, I checked the basket to see that my muffins had been put out, though by this time of the morning, a lot of them were usually gone.

I was stunned to see the basket was still almost full. The clerk behind the counter saw me checking them out and suddenly looked uncomfortable. I didn't have to wonder what was going on—it was obvious. People had believed what Rosalie said about the corn muffins making the football players sick and now clearly thought there was something wrong with everything I made. I saw my baking career going down the tubes right before my eyes.

I abandoned my plans and rushed back home. The kitchen still smelled of the breakfast that Sammy had brought. Julius was parading in front of the refrigerator like it was some kind of protest march.

“Your stink fish,” I said, feeling a pang of guilt that I'd forgotten to give him his morning spoonful. “It's not like you're going to starve,” I said, pointing at the special bowl I'd gotten him with his name on it that was filled with kitty crunchies. Julius swished his tail in response, which I took as his way of saying, “Don't be ridiculous.”

I held my breath as I took the open can out of the plastic bag and then went through the triple layers of plastic wrap and doled out a generous spoonful under his watchful eye. He was on it before I even moved away.

I headed right to the phone after that. I had the number on auto dial now, so with a push of a button, I heard the distant phone begin to ring.

I tried to keep the panic out of my voice as my old boss answered. “Good morning, Frank.”

“Oh no, Feldstein. What's wrong? You never say good morning, and your voice sounds shaky.”

“Frank, I'm in trouble. It's a disaster,” I said, trying to pull myself together.

“I thought you said that nobody had died in that candy bar town of yours when you called before.”

“What a difference a couple of days make,” I said. “Okay, somebody was stabbed in the back at the Blessing of the Butterflies service last night, and the person of interest is my cop friend's sister. And he did ask me to see what I could find out. But there's another death I'm worried about. My career.”

“Feldstein, how do you manage to get so much on your plate in such a short time? You better tell me everything.” I heard the squeak of his reclining office chair, as he made himself comfortable while he listened. Frank was always pushing that chair to its limit. I had this image that one day the chair would revolt and fling him out of it like it was a catapult.

I had to start at the beginning, with the chili dinner, the football team's loss and how the whole town was upset, before I got to how it affected me. “You know how rumors work. One minute someone is making a comment that my muffins might have been the cause, and then it gets changed into a certainty. Then all my muffins are suspect. There are never as many muffins left at this time of the morning,” I said.

“Any chance it was the muffins?” Frank asked. When I objected, he said he had to know the truth if he was going to help.

“Of course not. I use all the rules of safe food handling.”

“That's good news, Feldstein. It sounds to me as if that woman was trying to get the heat off her chili by blaming your muffins. But suppose somebody still thought it was her chili that made those players sick. So they stabbed her as revenge for the team's loss.” Frank let it sink in for a moment. “You just have to hope that the killer doesn't decide to take out anyone else who made food that night. Do you see where I'm going, Feldstein?”

I swallowed so hard it sounded like something out of a cartoon.

“I'm telling you, you really ought to be carrying,” Frank said.

“Carrying?” I said.

“A gun, Feldstein. With all the trouble you get into, you ought to have protection.”

“I'd probably shoot myself in the foot,” I said. “Besides, I do sort of have protection.”

“That cop down the street?”

“No, more like the Amazing Dr. Sammy.” I told Frank about the situation with his parents and that he was staying with me.

Frank laughed a loud belly laugh. “Feldstein, you do lead a complicated life. What's he going to do if somebody comes after you, make a bunch of scarves come out of their ear?” Frank's tone changed from amused to impatient. “Got to go. I have a client coming in. We have a new specialty—personal background checks of people you meet online. The stories I could tell. But not now. Keep me posted.” I heard a click, and he was gone.

Usually, talking to Frank made me feel better. Not this time. It wasn't a happy thought that someone might want to murder me over my muffins. I pushed the thought onto the back shelf of my mind. It was time to concentrate on the retreat.

Julius was checking his bowl for any missed crumbs of stink fish as I went out the kitchen door. I pulled my bin on wheels to the guest house. It was perfectly neat inside and almost didn't even look as if someone had slept there. Sammy had made the bed and folded it back into the wall. The row of tote bags was just as I had left it on the counter after I'd filled them. I loaded them up and headed back across the street.

By now things were starting to stir on the Vista Del Mar grounds. The housekeeping golf cart drove past me, loaded with linens and towels. A delivery van was parked in the driveway. A couple pulled their suitcases into the Lodge. I caught a whiff of the breakfast smells coming from the dining hall and imagined the early birds and Lucinda sitting together.

I dragged the bin inside the Lodge and began setting everything out on the registration table. As soon as I was done, I went back into the café. I told myself it was to get the coffee I'd wanted earlier, but I knew it was really to check on the muffins. My heart fell when I saw that they'd only sold
one since I'd been there. Normally by now, there would be just one left. I made a hasty decision and took a deep breath before I asked the counter guy to take away the sign in front of the basket that announced they were Casey's Muffins. “Just let them be generic for now,” I said.

“It doesn't matter,” he said. “Everyone knows who made them.”