Murder at the Tremont House (A Blue Plate Cafe Mystery) (6 page)

“
Whoa!” I said, grabbing Huggles.

“
Kate! What are you doing home? You’re not supposed to be here until tomorrow. I thought someone had broken in.”

“
And you scared me half to death!” I countered. “Come in now and have a glass of wine.”

“
No, I better get home. Donna’s on a tear, and she hasn’t fed the kids. I just came to make sure Huggles is all right but now that you’re home….”

“
What’s she on a tear about?” I didn’t really want to hear, but it was polite to ask.

“
That Cavanaugh woman is gone”.”

“
Left Wheeler?”

“
No, I don’t think so. Donna looked—her clothes and computer are still here. All that’s missing is her car and that electronic notebook she carries, her cell phone, and her purse. Oh, and of course, her.”

“
Maybe she just went out of town overnight. Research or something.”

“
She left soon as she got new tires for her car.”

“
Whoa! I’ve missed something. Why did she need new tires for her car?”

He smiled, but it was a tired smile.
“Someone slashed all four tires in the driveway of The Tremont House two nights ago. Rick didn’t tell you?”

“
I haven’t seen Rick. So tell me.”

He shrugged.
“Not much to tell. No clue who did it. No note or anything. She just went out in the morning and found the car sitting on rims. We had to call to Canton for tires, got ’em fixed the next day, and she took off.”

“
Wonder if that’s connected? If she had some idea who slashed her tires and she went after them or because of it….” My voice trailed off because I was out of possibilities.

He sighed.
“I will have a quick glass of wine. I don’t like vandalism in my town.” He sank into one of the kitchen chairs, and I poured him a glass of wine. “I tried to convince Donna she’ll be back, but she’s afraid she’s lost her best paying customer. So now she’s furious at Rick…again…because he hasn’t found out who slashed the tires and drove away her paying customer.” He rubbed his hand across his forehead in a weary gesture, and I thought to myself Tom was looking older lately—a little puffy around the eyes, a little fuller in the face, and often dispirited.

“
Didn’t Sara Jo pay in advance?”

He nodded.
“Sure. I think Donna misses her company as much as anything. I told her to be careful what she said, but she spends a lot of time talking to her—sometimes late at night. You know how Donna feels about Wheeler. I’m afraid she’s giving Sara Jo an earful about all that’s wrong with Wheeler. And now she thinks the tire slashing is just one more nail in Wheeler’s coffin. She really wants to be out of here, and sometimes…truly…I’m tempted to tell her to go. Just leave me my children.”

My heart broke at those words, and for a long time I had nothing to say. What can you say to a man who wants to keep his family together but can
’t put up with his wife…and for good cause? What I finally said sort of changed the subject back to Sara Jo.

“
I don’t guess there’s much we can do about finding Sara Jo. She’ll show up in a day or two. I’ll try to take Donna’s mind off that.”

“
You probably don’t have to worry about that. She has a doozy of an idea that involves you. But I’ll let her tell you.”

“
Tom, that’s not fair!”

He grinned and ducked out that door, and I was left stewing about what Donna
’s doozy of an idea could be.

Of course, the next morning I didn
’t have to stew long. I was putting sticky buns in the oven, early as usual, and everyone exclaimed about my being back a day sooner than expected. When Rick came in, he grinned—rare for him—and then whispered conspiratorially the sticky buns weren’t as good when I was gone.

But Donna knew I was back. Tom would have told her, and she must have come to the café as soon as she got the children off to school. She came in the door and made straight for the counter.
“Sister! I have to talk to you.”

I could see Rick edge sideways in his seat, as though he wanted to put as much distance as possible between himself and her.

“Hi, Donna. Thanks. I’m glad to be home.”

She got
to the point immediately. “Oh, of course I’m glad you’re home. It’s just that I’ve had so much on my mind. Sara Jo’s car being vandalized and all. I knew she was trouble from the beginning.”

Was this my sister who had found her best friend forever in Sara Jo not a week ago?
Just as that thought ran through my head, I heard Gram say, “Tsk, child. Be patient with your sister.”

“
What’s up, Don?”

She stiffened.
“I wish you wouldn’t call me that. But I have a problem and a great idea. My problem is Sara Jo’s gone.”

“
Tom told me, but I suspect she’ll be back. After all, she left her clothes and all.”

“
That’s what he says, but I can’t help being suspicious. I don’t mean she’s run away or anything. I just hope she’s all right.”

Startled, I asked,
“Why wouldn’t she be?”

Rick
’s ears perked up.

“
You know how this town can be, Kate. What if someone did something to her? I mean, after the tire incident, it’s clear someone wants to get her…or at least scare her away.”

“
True. She’s been annoying people, and this vandalism is scary. Maybe she just wanted to get away for a day or two to think about it. Or maybe she’s doing some research.”

“
No, but she told me she’s on to something big.”

I wonder if that
was Donna’s interpretation of something Sara Jo said.

“
She’ll be back today or tomorrow,” I said after a moment. “I don’t think Sara Jo scares easily. Want to bet, say, lunch in Canton?”

“
Canton,” she scoffed. “There’s no place there worth the bet. I’ll bet you lunch at the Adolphus in Dallas.”

I resisted the urge to tell her I knew better places than the Adolphus
but said, “You’re on.” I was fairly confident I would never have to buy her that lunch, and I’d conveniently let her forget that she owed me.

Rick got up, put his hat on, tipped it in our direction, said,
“Ladies!” and left. I wished I could go with him.

“
But let me tell you about my great idea.”

I leaned on the counter.
“Tell me.”

“
We’re going to run The Tremont House Cooking School.”

“
We
are?”

“
Right. I’ll manage it, arrange the classes, collect the fees, do all the administrative work. All you have to do is teach ladies how to cook.”

“
What ladies?”

“
Well, the good ladies of Wheeler, of course.”

“
Most of them already know how to cook the stuff I fix here, like chicken-fried steak or fried catfish.”

“
Oh, no,” she said in horror. “That’s not what we’ll teach. What was that dish you made one morning in my kitchen? Coke something.”

“
Coquille St. Jacques, and you said Tom wouldn’t eat it. Neither, I bet, would most of the men in Wheeler.”

“
Well, can you come up with a list of dishes that would interest the ladies, so they could fix them for their husbands? And then we’d send home what they cooked for their dinner that night. I’d make a big salad to go with it.”

Salad was right up her alley—if she could get pre-washed greens.
Gram, why aren’t you rescuing me from this?

I could hear a chuckle from Heaven.
“You’re on your own, child.” And she was gone.

In the end, Donna assigned me the chore of coming up with no less than ten dishes. She would, she said, be planning. As she left, I called out,
“Be sure to let me know when Sara Jo comes back.” Then I walked around and sat on a stool feeling like a hurricane had just come through. But believe it or not, I began thinking about dishes…until my thoughts turned to Sara Jo. I’d heard a lot about her in recent days but I hadn’t seen her, not since Donna gave her kitchen privileges. It was time to invite Sara Jo to have lunch with me.

****

I expected Donna would tell me when Sara Jo came back to town and then I’d go to the B&B and invite her for lunch or supper, but I had no need to do that. She came back to town late that night, and before Donna could spread the word, Sara Jo was in the café the next morning, so early I almost didn’t have sticky buns ready.

“
Morning,” I said casually, putting a cup of coffee in front of her and moving the container of sugar and sweetener packets and the creamer toward her. “You’ve been among the missing. Donna was worried. And I hear your car was vandalized.”

She flipped her hair, worn loose today, back from her face and said, almost sarcastically,
“I didn’t know I had to check in with her before I left town. And, yes, my tires were slashed. But at least I know you didn’t do it. You were in Dallas.”

Is she serious or is she joking?

“The tires were a huge inconvenience. It took a full day to get new ones from Canton and get them installed, but that’s just a nuisance. People who do that aren’t dangerous. And as for Donna worrying, she doesn’t have to keep tabs on me. I wish she wouldn’t.”

“
Donna’s concern is well intentioned,” I said.
Good a time as any to start the conversation
. “She says you’ve uncovered something big, really big, and she was afraid someone might want to harm you to keep you from writing about it.”

She stared thoughtfully into space so long I poured myself a cup of coffee, returned and said,
“Let’s go sit at that corner table.”

When we were settled, and I had brought her a sticky bun,
which I’m sure broke her diet, she said, “You know, as a journalist, I know better than to talk about my work to others. But Donna…well, we talked like, oh, maybe high school girlfriends, late into the night, and I thought I could trust her. Lesson learned. Besides, what I’ve got so far isn’t enough to make anyone feel threatened.”

There was my answer: she sure wasn
’t going to talk to me about it. So I pressed the conversation forward in general terms. “What do you think of Wheeler so far?”

She was thoughtful again, until she finally said,
“Surprising. Oh, there’s the little stuff I’d expect. The minister’s wife who’s so protective of her husband’s position, as though he were the Bishop of Canterbury, and that spinster sewing lady….”

“
I’m sure you didn’t know,” I interrupted gently, “that she lost her fiancé in Vietnam and has never gotten over it. Folks around here know and they just don’t talk to her about it.”

Callously, she asked,
“What does that have to do with it? Maybe she’d be better off talking about it.”

She
, honest to Pete, whipped out that AirMac thing and made a note.

“
Wait! I didn’t tell you that because I thought you should talk to her about it. I told you because I wanted you to know you’d been on uncomfortable ground for her.”

“
My business is not to make people comfortable. It’s to find out what makes them tick…and that’s part of what makes her tick. I’ll ask her about it.”

I had a feeling that my plea of
“Please don’t” fell on deaf ears. I was also deciding I really didn’t like Sara Jo much.

Before I could say more, she said,
“Your sister, Donna, may be a big part of my article. She’s what I expected to find in a small town…dissatisfied, unhappy, wishes she lived in Dallas. I would too if I lived here. I have to find out more about the time she was accused of murder and how she felt about it.”

“
I wish you wouldn’t include that,” I said it softly, not as an order but as a plea. “And it sounds to me you came with an agenda…to discover discontent and scandal and reveal that small towns aren’t as peaceful as people think.”

“
No!” she said sharply. “I came with an open mind.”

“
Have you ever lived in a small town?” I asked.

She swung her head around.
“No,” she said sharply. “That’s one reason I am interested. I can’t imagine it, living permanently in a place like this.” She waved a hand in the air, as though indicating the entire town.

“
So you do have preconceived notions about small towns.” I didn’t mean it as a question.

She started to rise.
“No, and don’t accuse me of that. I’m a journalist. That means I’m impartial. I go about any assignment with an open mind.”

She had opened a door I wanted. Boldly, before she could stalk off, I put my hand on her arm and asked,
“Do you have some clippings of previous stories. Something that could verify your credentials for us?” It was almost a declaration of war, and she certainly took it that way.