Murder at the Tremont House (A Blue Plate Cafe Mystery) (5 page)

“
Never heard of her, don’t know how you can track her down. She could be freelancing for one of hundreds of magazines. I’d ask her if she has a business card, a portfolio, something to establish her credibility.”

I
’d tried that but not gotten very far. Maybe I’d press the matter a little more severely.
“I will. She actually doesn’t come into the café much. Stays at Donna’s B&B, fixes her own meals since Donna gave her kitchen privileges—and charged her more for that.”

He grinned.
“Sounds like Donna. I’ll come to Wheeler for a day sometime, see if I can get her to interview me, and give you my opinion, but beyond that, I just don’t know. You seem to think she’s there to stir up trouble.”

“
Oh, I don’t know if that’s why she’s there, but I think it will be the end result of her so-called investigative reporting. You should already hear the complaints I’m getting—from the minister’s wife, among others, who thought her questions way too personal.”

He laughed aloud.
“Guess I better come to Wheeler. Buy me lunch?”

“
Of course, and you’re overdue a visit. I thought once you had the cottage, we’d see more of you.” I was making light of it, but David wasn’t.

He reached across the table and put his hand over mine.
“I would have come, but I thought you shut me out. I decided you and that police chief were an item, and there was no room in your life for me.”

I lowered my eyes and didn
’t answer for a long time. Finally, I dragged out the words. “I honestly don’t know if we’re an item or not, and I guess not knowing tells you something. But I like him a lot. He sends his regards, by the way.”

He gave me a wry smile.
“Oh, good.” And then he waited for me to go on.

“
I don’t think I’m ready to be an item with anyone, David. I’m settling in to a new life, so different from my life in Dallas. You didn’t know me outside the office.”

“
No. Do I want to?”

“
I don’t know. I was a party girl, always ready to meet an eligible man—and a few that weren’t eligible. When I look back, it’s not a life I’m proud of. And I guess I’m sort of finding myself now, and I like it. I don’t want to do what I did before and rush into something, one thing after another.”

He looked at me so long I began to squirm. The waiter brought us another round of wine, and I thought I
’d for sure have to have an afternoon nap.

Finally, David spoke.
“You’re almost a stereotype. I’m so sorry to disappoint you, if you thought you were unique. But you were, as they say, sewing your wild oats. Probably means you won’t end up perpetually dissatisfied, like Donna.” He took my hand again. “Sorry, Kate. You didn’t shock me or tell me anything I haven’t heard. Probably even suspected about you. It’s no reason to keep me at arm’s length.”

“
You’re welcome at the Blue Plate Café any time. Please come. Stop staying away. Even Rick would be glad to see you.”

“
I doubt that,” he said wryly, “but I’ll be there soon.”

At the parking lot of his office, he put his arm around me and said,
“Kate, I’m proud of you. I worried about you in Wheeler, but you’re making it work. And I’ll help you figure out this Sara Jo Cavanaugh thing.”

As I turned away, he said,
“Oh, and I’ve got our lunch tomorrow all planned. I’ll pick you up at Cindy’s at eleven-thirty. Give me the address.”

His tone left no room for disagreement, so I jotted the address on a slip of paper and said,
“I’ll be waiting.”

I did go back to Cindy
’s and take that nap.

That night, Cindy had five of my girlfriends over for pizza and wine. I loved seeing them, catchi
ng up on what they were doing, hearing about their lives. But after two glasses of wine, I wearied of the talk of men and unhappy jobs and dead-end lives. I heard nothing about anything outside their small world, and I was bored. Did they ever look beyond their own horizon? It was nearly midnight before they left, with a flurry of hugs and promises to visit Wheeler. I knew they wouldn’t, and I wasn’t really sorry.

I thanked Cindy for arranging the evening, but she was savvy.
“You don’t have much in common with them anymore, do you?”

I hesitated, not wanting to offend, but slowly I said,
“I guess not. My Dallas life seems like another world to me now. My world is bounded by a restaurant, a dog and a cat and my nieces and nephew, and a small town, with all its complications and intricacies.”

“
I thought small towns were peaceful, and you’d be bored.”

“
I’m waiting for that. Wheeler never seems free from problems.” I didn’t think it was worth the time, at that hour of the night, to tell her about Sara Jo Cavanaugh. She wouldn’t understand.

W
hen I got up on Thursday morning, I realized that I really didn’t want to go barhopping with Cindy that night. I didn’t want to listen to more stories of men good and bad and gossip about this girl and that and what this mean boss or that had done. I was ready to go back to Wheeler. And my search for Sara Jo, while not deep, had yielded nothing. Nor had I found Joanie Millican, in spite of phone calls to all three southwestern boutiques. Granted, mine was not a thorough search. Maybe I’d come back some time, stay in a hotel, and do more. Meantime, my ostensible reasons for coming to Dallas—to get away and to see old friends—were a total bust, but I had learned a lot, and it was a worthwhile trip.

After
Cindy went to work, I packed my stuff in my car, except for Wynona. I’d add her right after lunch.

David took me to
a place almost on Bachman Lake, at the end of the runways from Love Field. It was called Gyros, and you entered through a vine-covered archway. I couldn’t decide if it was spooky or charming. Inside, the place was not charming, definitely. It was a nightclub, reeked of stale beer, and had a dance floor with tables surrounding it.

He saw my questioning look and held up a hand.
“Wait. Wait until you taste the food. Trust me—no band, no music, no dancing at lunch.”

It was Greek food, and I gorged myself on dolma
s and the best spanakopita I’ve ever had. A taste of David’s gyro plate with tzatziki sauce sent me through the roof.

“
This is the best Greek food I’ve ever eaten,” I said between mouthfuls.

He laughed.
“I wanted to show you the underbelly of Dallas, the places you never discovered because you were so busy with the North Dallas bar scene.”

Zing! That hurt, but it was deserved. I just smiled and said,
“You’ve shown me. I may have to come back for another lesson.”

His hand was on mine again.
“Any time. I know lots more places. A place in the Bishop Arts District that serves home-style food—oh, you get that in Wheeler, don’t you? How about a place with a glass-floored patio where you can look down at the pier-and-beam construction of a 1920s building while you eat really trendy food?”

“
You’re so tempting. I may come to Dallas to visit more often. I see what I’ve been missing.” What I didn’t say was I was missing the life David lived—and maybe him—but not the life I’d lived.

He drove me back to Cindy
’s, and I told him I was going to leave Cindy a note and go home that afternoon. He cocked his head and looked at me. “Had enough of the high life?”

I sighed.
“Enough of the singles life. It’s not me anymore. I can’t believe I was caught up in it.”

He leaned over and kissed me ever so gently.
“This was a really worthwhile trip then. Drive safe, and I’ll see you in Wheeler soon. Maybe I’ll just surprise you and walk into the café one day.”

I laughed.
“I’d love it. So would Rick.”

His smile faded, and I cursed my busy tongue.

****

I took the back road home, going thr
ough Seagoville and on to Crandall. When I approached that town, I suddenly was aware of a flashing light and the brief signal of a siren behind me. Sure I wasn’t speeding, I pulled over and waited defensively, digging out my driver’s license.

As I rolled down my window, I heard a cheery,
“Miss Kate, we’ve been wondering about you. Meaning to get over to Wheeler for supper but just haven’t done it. Now I’ll have to ticket you for goin’ through Crandall and not stopping to see the missus and me.”

I looked into the smiling face of Chester Grimes
, who had rescued me when my brakes failed just the other side of Crandall and I rammed my car into some small trees, taking out one of them. His wife Carolyn had fed me, babied me, and put me down for a nap as though I were a child. I’d thought of them often, but just as they were too busy to come to Wheeler, I’d been too busy to contact them.

“
Miss, I’ll tear up this ticket if you get yourself into town to see Miss Carolyn. Neither of us will forgive you if you don’t. And just to be sure, I’ll follow you. Siren off though.”

By now, I was laughing.
“Chester, I’d love a visit. I’ll follow your orders.”

And so once again, I was in Carolyn Grimes
’ cheerful, cluttered living room, while she clucked like a mother hen. “Child, I’ve been worried about you. Chester told me you almost got yourself killed.”

“
It wasn’t that bad,” I protested.

“
Rick Daniels thought it was,” Chester said. “I can’t tell you how distraught that man was when he called me. I thought I was gonna have to go to Wheeler to save him.”

A wave of emotion swept over
me. Rick cared that much? He never really let that on to me, especially not that day. I sat and turned the thought over and over in my mind, my thoughts inevitably going back to David Clinkscales. Why was it when I was searching for men there were no good ones in sight, but now that I wasn’t searching, I kept bumping into them?

I was silent so long Carolyn scolded her husband.
“Chester, don’t you go upsetting this poor girl. I’ve got iced tea and a fresh Bundt cake—chocolate—just out of the oven. You sit and eat, Kate. Chester, the cake isn’t on your diet.”

“
Then why did you bake it?” he asked plaintively.

“
Oh, all right. You can have a small piece.”

And so I sat and ate chocolate cake—I
’d have to diet back in Wheeler whether Chester did or not—and told them about life in Wheeler. I didn’t say much about all the past events, but I found myself pouring out the story of Sara Jo Cavanaugh.

“
Asking nosy questions, huh?” Carolyn sniffed. “In Crandall, we’d run her right out of town. Wouldn’t you, Chester.”

“
Now, Mama, you know I can’t run people out of town just because you don’t like them. That was a century ago.”

As far as I knew this devoted couple had no children, not even dogs
or cats, but he still called his wife, “Mama.” I found it sort of endearing.

“
But, Kate, you take care,” Chester went on. “And this time don’t leave Rick out of things. He’s the law, and besides that he cares about you. Last time you nearly got yourself killed, so who knows what could happen this time.”

“
I don’t think it’s dangerous,” I said, “just trouble. She’s going to stir up trouble. I bet she breaks up some marriages, maybe ruins a business or two. That kind of trouble.”

“
Never can tell. She riles someone enough, she might be in danger herself. Why’d she pick Wheeler?”

“
She’s vague about that and vague about who she’s writing for. I’m going to ask for a card, or some clippings, or some evidence of her professional background. That was the suggestion of my old boss in Dallas.”

“
Good idea.” Chester nodded his approval. “Let me know what you find out.”

After a suitable visit, I stood to leave, and Chester carried Wynona
’s crate back out to the car. I hugged Carolyn and followed Chester, who said, “Mama and me will be over to eat one time soon, Kate. You count on it.”

“
I will,” I said, giving him a swift hug.

Then I was in my car and on my way to Wheeler, feeling a great sense of
joy that I was going home.

Chap
ter Five

To my relief, no one saw me come into town. Since I was supposed to stay in Dallas until the next day, I could have a quiet evening at home with Wynona and Huggles, who was delighted to see me, not so happy to see the cat.
I unpacked and poured myself a glass of white wine. I’d had the forethought to buy a case in Dallas, since none was available in Wheeler. Then I fried some bacon and scrambled eggs. Sometimes breakfast is the best choice for supper.

My conscience got the better of me, and I put my book aside in favor of doing some paperwork at Gram
’s desk. Huggles curled at my feet, and I was working away when suddenly the dog barked and flew out of the room. A bit alarmed I followed him, only to find Tom quietly letting himself in the kitchen door, a gun in his hand.