Lost and Fondue (25 page)

“Who will she attack next? My little girl, Tisha? Look at her. Isn’t she sweet? Tisha wouldn’t hurt a fly.” Tyanne gazed at her seven-year-old, a spitting image of Mommy in her pink yoga outfit, her bobbed blonde hair framing her face. She must have grown an inch since I’d last seen her. Tyanne shook her head. “No! I refuse to let Prudence Hart ruin this town. If I have to, I’m going to start a petition and put her out of business. Or start a rival boutique. That would do her in, don’t you think?” She clutched my arm and giggled like old times.

Secretly, I reveled that she was my friend again, as junior high school as that sounded.

Meredith shambled out of the bathroom with a wad of tissues in her hand. She noticed me and slumped onto the chair beside the pottery wheel at the back of the store.

I said, “Tyanne, we’ll talk later.” I hurried through the throng to Meredith and perched on a nearby stool. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine.” She spun the pottery wheel. “I thought, after this party, I’d talk to Jacky about helping raise awareness for the college.”

“Good try,” I said, not buying her half-baked lie. “Your face is a blotchy mess, and your blouse is still smudged and wet where you tried to wash out mascara.” I brushed her arm with my fingertips. “C’mon, why were you so upset outside Freckles’s place?”

“You know.”

“Actually I don’t.”

“When I saw them ... the twins ... cuddling their mother ... I ...” She licked her lips. “I feel so guilty, Charlotte, wanting them to love me more than they love her.”

“That’s only natural.”

“But she’s their mother.” Meredith gave the wheel an extra-hard spin. It made a wonking off-balance sound.

“She’s not a very good one,” I said. I told her about Sylvie’s admission.

Meredith shook her head. “Do you believe her?”

“About the money being gone? Yes. She looked pretty miserable. However, I’m not sure I believe that she can change. She might promise, but I’m afraid the twins will be sorely disappointed.”

Meredith ran a finger back and forth across her lower lip, a habit that had started way back in second grade when something was troubling her.

“Talk to me,” I said.

“Do you think he’ll get back together with Sylvie, you know, out of guilt? Because she needs him, and Matthew likes to be needed.”

I laughed out loud. “No, my dear friend, there is no way in hell he’ll reunite with Sylvie. He would give her half his future earnings before he would consider that. You are safe. Beyond safe. You are golden.”

A chorus of “Happy Birthday to You” resounded from the partygoers. One little girl sang louder than the rest, and I thought of Amy, usually full of gusto yet hesitant to embrace her mother. Had she picked up on something I hadn’t? Was Sylvie full of beans?

When the singing ceased, I said, “Meredith, the twins will always love their mother. That’s a given. It’s DNA. Even if she abandons them again, they will love her. But they adore you and will want you in their lives because you are smart and fun-loving and tender. They know they can count on you. And most important, they will love you because Matthew loves you.”

A single tear slipped down her cheek. She brushed it away with a knuckle.

I said, “Now, let’s retrieve them from Sylvie’s clutches and take them out for hot cocoa.”

Halfway to the door, I spied a man leaning against a lamppost kitty-corner from the shop, one ankle crossed over the other and a fedora pulled down over one eye. He clutched a newspaper in his hands and chewed a toothpick between his teeth. Everything about him screamed B-movie detective, and a tremor of fear shimmied up my spine. Was this the shady guy Delilah had seen in the blue sedan watching Jacky with such rapt attention? A tired-looking royal blue Chevy Impala was parked less than fifteen feet from him. Was he a stalker, or worse, Jacky’s abusive husband?

“See that man at the corner?” I whispered to Meredith, unable to mask the panic in my voice. She started to turn her head, and I hissed, “Don’t look.”

“Then how can I see him?”

“Okay, take a quick peek. The guy with the newspaper.”

She zipped her gaze to him and back to me. “What about him?”

“Does he appear familiar?”

“No. What’s got you spooked?”

It dawned on me that she hadn’t been at Girls’ Night Out at the pub when Delilah, Rebecca, and I had discussed the mysterious man following Jacky. For the first time, it also occurred to me that if he was new to town, he, too, could be a treasure hunter. But why was he spying on Jacky? Or was he?

“Stay here.”

“What are you going to do?”

I didn’t know, but I dashed toward the front of the shop. I hurtled out the door, my feet picking up speed, and sprinted across the street. A Toyota truck came out of nowhere. Okay, it had come from somewhere, but I hadn’t been watching. The truck screeched to a halt. I threw my hands out, like they could stop two tons of metal from trampling me. People on the sidewalk gasped.

The man in the fedora looked up. He tossed his newspaper on the ground and hotfooted it north on Cherry Orchard Road, toward the Congregational Church. Not to the blue Impala.

Dead set on finding out who he was, I zigzagged around the Toyota and bounded after him. My heart battered my rib cage. My breathing was short and choppy.

The man in the fedora veered into the driveway beside the church.

I urged my legs to run faster and they did the best they could, but when I arrived at the driveway, I saw no sign of him. Not even a billowing of dust. I raced to the parking lot behind the church. Empty.

Where had the guy gone? Over the fence at the rear of the parking lot, or up the side of the church like Spider-Man? Either way, I’d lost him. I bent over my thighs, my lungs burning with overexertion.

Soon after, the predicted rain began, which of course put a perfect cap on a lousy afternoon.

While I headed back to the pottery shop, darting from awning to awning so I wouldn’t get drenched, I called Jordan. He didn’t answer, so I left a message telling him to check in on his sister and said that I was worried for her safety. I described the guy and the Impala, and with a nervous laugh, added that I could be wrong about the stalker. For all I knew, I might have just chased a total stranger who fled from what he perceived to be a crazy woman.

By the time I reached A Wheel Good Time, I had convinced myself that was indeed the case, and I made an executive decision not to tell Jacky about the incident. She was immersed in birthday party activities and seemed, for the moment, happy and unstressed. Why rock the proverbial boat?

Meredith caught me by the elbow and tugged me to the far side of the shop. “What was that about?”

“Come with me and the girls to the diner, and I’ll fill you in.”

Her face tightened with worry. “What if they don’t want me to join you?”

“They do. Believe me.” I prodded her toward the front door. “C’mon, move those legs of lead. I need to get the girls fed before the wine tasting tonight.” Thanks to keen foresight, I’d hired Philby Jebbs to sit the girls. With Bozz splitting his time between the shop and the theater, Philby was available for the evening and more than delighted to get the job.

After another trek through the rain, we found the twins in the back of Sew Inspired Quilt Shoppe, doing an acid versus alkali experiment with Frenchie. Clair twirled a strand of her blonde hair and watched with amazement. Amy looked at me, her face grim.

“Where’s your mother, girls?” I asked.

“She had to run,” Amy said.

Run or flee? A sliver of suspicion wedged its way into my thoughts. Had Sylvie lied about her parents’ financial woes? Had she made up the whole story to dupe me about why she had really gone to the winery? Perhaps she had a link to Harker Fontanne that had yet to be discovered. Or maybe she found motherhood too darned difficult, yet again.

“She had an errand to do,” Clair added. “At the pharmacy.”

Bad Charlotte.
Jumping to conclusions. Or was I?

“When will she be coming back?” I asked.

“She said she’d meet us at The Cheese Shop.” Amy worked her tongue inside her mouth. “If that’s okay.”

If Sylvie returned—
if
—I’d deal with her then.

As I exited the Country Kitchen carrying a sack of sugar cookies and a four-cup tray of hot cocoa, I silently cursed having left the house without an umbrella. What had I been thinking? Meredith, equally lax, had left hers at school.

The twins, finding adults funny, giggled.

“Okay, let’s run for it,” I said.

Hunched over the goodies, I bolted across the street to Fromagerie Bessette. Meredith and the twins followed. When we arrived, Rebecca was tending to a customer.

“Nice hairdo.” She smirked as she proceeded to sell a pound of Pace Hill Gouda to her customer.

I shaped wet tendrils around my face—it was the best I could do—and scanned the shop. I spied Matthew and Freddy in the annex. Freddy was helping Matthew unload boxes.

“Look at them, Charlotte.” Meredith sidled to my side. “Chatting like old friends.” Her voice was tinged with pride mixed with melancholy.

Freddy spotted me but acted like he hadn’t. No doubt he was mad at me for considering him a murder suspect, but how could I not? I still wanted to know what he’d hidden in his suitcase.

I offered the snacks to the twins. “Why don’t you hang your wet coats on the hooks at the back and go into the annex to eat? Give Freddy my cocoa.” A peace offering was always a smart idea.

As they hurried away, I gathered a selection of slate boards and white chalk and moved to the kitchen. I set the items on the granite-topped prep station and started writing the names of the cheeses I intended to serve at the tasting.

Meredith perched on a stool beside the station. “You still haven’t told me who you were chasing.”

I brought her up to date about the possible stalker.

“Are you sure he didn’t flee because you frightened him?” she asked.

“Oooh, I’m so scary. All five-foot-three of me.” I wiggled my fingers in her face. “Yes, I considered that.”

“You did look pretty scary.” She laughed. It was perhaps the first time I’d seen her smile since the night of the murder. But her face quickly grew serious. “Who do you think it was?”

“Got me.” That was as honest an answer as I could provide. If it was Jacky’s husband or a colleague of the husband, Jordan would know what to do. I continued to get the feeling that, prior to moving to Providence, Jordan had been involved in law enforcement. I’d heard him say things like, “Stand down,” and I’d seen a gun in his top desk drawer in the office at his farm. He also knew how to apply CPR, but so did I and lots of other people I knew. However, his knowledge of cheese making and his chopping skills at our cooking classes at Bella Ristorante had me baffled. If I didn’t know better, I’d swear he was an Iron Chef.

Meredith picked up a piece of chalk and worried it between her fingers. “What are we going to do about Quinn? She’s not guilty. She should be out on bail. Freddy isn’t guilty either. You’ve got to believe me.”

I breezed to the refrigerator and grabbed a bottle of water. I offered Meredith one but she declined. As I cracked open the top, I said, “Why don’t you hang out with the twins? I’ve got to call Urso and clue him in about the stalker.” I wouldn’t reveal Jacky’s new identity to him, even though he was our chief of police. Jordan would have my hide if I did. But I figured that, no matter who the shady character was, Urso should be on the case. “While I’ve got Urso on the line, I’ll see what’s up with Quinn and bail.”

She gave me a hug of thanks and trotted off.

Parched, I took a swig of water, then returned the slate boards to the cheese counter and retreated to my office. I sat at the desk and dialed the telephone. Rags leaped into my lap and purred for attention. I obliged with a nuzzle to his ears. After two rings, Urso answered and I brought him up to date.

Urso chuckled. “C’mon, Charlotte. He looked like a B-movie detective? Really?”

My face flushed with embarrassment. “Don’t make fun.”

“You and Rebecca crack me up. Shamus One and Shamus Two.”

“Just do your job.”

“Will do. Will do.” He sniggered again. “I’ll drop by Jacky’s store. Deal?”

“Be subtle.”

“I’m always subtle. By the way, she was married before, wasn’t she?”

“I’m not at liberty to say,” I blurted then bit my lip. Stupid me. My quick response had confirmed his guess. How had he known? It dawned on me that when I’d first met Jacky she had been wearing a diamond ring. Urso must have seen it before she’d decided to remove it altogether.

After I signed off, I realized I’d forgotten to ask Urso about Quinn and her bail. I was about to call back, when Bozz entered with a paper plate filled with bread cubes and a dollop of fondue. Today’s daily special selection was blue cheese and garlic. Not for everyone. Definitely on the strong side, but ever so tasty and delicious added to a green salad.

“Hi, Ms. B.”

“Why aren’t you at the theater?”

“I’m taking my dinner break.”

Rags dove off my lap and hustled to Bozz.

“Benedict Arnold,” I muttered.

Bozz lifted Rags and slung him around his neck, then scooped up some warm gooey cheese with a piece of bread and plopped the morsel into his mouth.

“Isn’t Grandmère having a buffet for the crew at the theater?” I said.

He licked his fingers. “Yeah, sure, but I wanted fondue. Man, this stuff is addictive.”

“How’s tech week going?”

“Your grandmother is a little cuckoo.” He sputtered. “No disrespect meant.”

I smiled. “None taken. I assume she’s marching around the stage pounding her stick.”

“You got it.” He chuckled then took another bite of fondue and hummed his appreciation. “Hey, you’ll never guess what I found on the Internet.” He used his pinky finger to indicate the monitor.