Truffle Me Not: Baker by Day ,Sleuth on the Side (Cupid's Catering Company Book 2)

by M K Scott

  The only thing gritty about the previous building, besides the actual dirt, was the lack of fancy gingerbread touches usually associated with a Victorian period building. Time may have wreaked havoc with it, but she suspected when it became a police station, they trimmed off what they could to make it look less like a bed and breakfast.

  “Yes, he would have,” her mother asserted as she unbuckled her seat belt. “If he were here, we wouldn’t have to go through this song and dance to get some help.”

  Della assumed as much. “Still, as the family of Owens’ premier detective, we should be afforded some courtesies.”

  With that thought, Della and her mother marched up the three extra-wide steps that took two decent strides each to move across. She waited for her mother to make some comment. She didn’t, possibly reflecting on all the previous times she entered the office, often with sweets or lunch for her husband. Many times, Della had accompanied her, the excursions allowing her to spend time with her father.

  Owens may not have been crime central, but her father did spend a great deal of time on the job due to understaffing. Della suspected part of the reason was her father liked the responsibility of keeping the community safe.

  Inside the building, Mabel recognized the woman manning the front desk and called out a cheery greeting. The two of them gossiped for a few minutes before the woman asked, “Don’t tell me. Did they rope you into doing the police ball refreshment committee?”

  “Police ball?” Mabel echoed the words with a strange tightness. “Kenneth always thought there should be a ball. Finally, it’s happening.” She shook off the mood and grinned as she leaned toward her questioner. “We could be convinced to help.” She angled her head in Della’s direction. “My daughter runs a first-rate catering and bakery business. Before we commit though, I need to talk to someone about a missing cat.”

  It might have been better had her mother led with that, but Della had the feeling the ball might be little more than a glorified school dance with chips and sodas. They might not want a caterer, especially someone you have to pay. The woman jotted something down on paper, then grinned at the two of them. “I’ll run it past the committee. I’m certain they’ll jump on the possibility. Let me get someone in to assist you.” She pushed as button on her old-style conference phone and spoke into the receiver. “Two citizens need help with a missing cat.”

  A door opened in the distance and a man approached. He waved as her neared. Her mother nudged Della as a middle-aged man with a marine haircut stepped into the lobby and waved at the two of them.

  The short-clipped haircut was probably former military service, or he realized it helped disguise hair loss. He brought with him the scent of stale cigarettes and an overabundance of aftershave. Perhaps the latter was intended to hide the former. Instead, the two engaged in a sensory battle that had Della wrinkling her nose.

  “Heard you came about a lost cat?” Even though he said the words, he glanced down at his phone. “Did you try the animal shelter? Finding cats isn’t our thing.”

  The man hadn’t even bothered to make eye contact or offer a hand in greeting. Della cut her eyes to gauge if her mother noticed the rudeness. A tight jaw and an even tighter grip on her purse meant she had.

  “Sir,” her mother started, possibly because the man failed to introduce himself. “I’m talking about a stolen cat. You may have heard about the jewels stolen along with the cat. I consulted with the cat owner, and we have a plan to get the catnappers to show their hand.”

  “Oh really?” The man glanced up to make the dismissive comment. “As I said, we don’t do missing cats. Good luck finding your cat.”

  The fingers on the hand gripping the purse began to drum on the wide, leather strap as Mabel audibly inhaled, possibly silently counting to ten. “I don’t have a lost cat. I’m trying to help you solve a crime. I would be doing most of the work, but I could use some backup.”

  His lips stretched into a wide smile that failed to inform the rest of his face. “Lookee here. We have a regular Jessica B. Fletcher in Owens.” He nodded at Della. “I bet you’re Nancy Drew.”

  “I’ll tell you who I am.” On one level, Della recognized her voice and heard the tension in it. She’d had just about enough of this patronizing idiot. People like him gave Owens’ Finest a bad name. “I happen to be the daughter of the best detective this town has ever had. My father would never have treated citizens of this community in such a cavalier fashion. Furthermore, he rescued a few missing or stranded cats in his time as well. It pains me to see you not serving a community that my father loved as his own family. Thanks for nothing!”

  A smattering of applause sounded, indicating more than a few had witnessed Della’s meltdown. Best leave now. Della hooked her arm with her mother’s. As they passed the front desk, an employee whispered rather loudly, “He’s a transfer from the big city, not one of ours. Let me see what I can do. I’ll give you a call later.”

  Her mother managed a soft thank you.

  The two of them said nothing as they walked to the car. Once inside the vehicle, Della let out a long sigh, leaned back into her seat, and closed her eyes. “I can only hope no one heard me who actually needs a caterer.”

  The sound of an open hand hitting the dashboard popped her eyes open. Her mother hit the dashboard again. “You really cut him off at the legs! Good for you!”

  “I didn’t mean to.” Something had just exploded in her. “The man is a bully. He spoke to us like we were stupid and unimportant. Technically, we are his employers. I kept thinking how appalled Daddy would be.”

  “I’m angry at Mr. Rudeness but proud of you.” Her mother patted Della on the arm. “I really am, too. We should do something to celebrate your show of spirit.”

  Most people wouldn’t go celebrating a public outburst, but then they didn’t have Mabel Delacroix as a mother. “I don’t know. Maybe I shouldn’t have said anything.”

  “Of course, you should have. It’s probably the first time you set someone straight.”

  Della rubbed a hand across her face. Non-confrontation had served her well all these years even if it didn’t always sit well with her. “It’s not the first time. I told off the creepy guy at Hubert’s”

  “Oh?” Her mother sniffed. “Tell me more. I missed out on this story.”

  Oh, right. She missed out on the story because Della didn’t want to admit to leaving her tote with the expensive collar on the check-out belt. Since it turned out to be just a paste collar, her oops moment mattered less. “Oh, I had to go back to Hubert’s because I forgot my tote.”

  By the time she finished her tale, her mother insisted they had to check out Guy’s place. Showing up with her mother in tow hadn’t been how she wanted to see Guy again. Still, no reason to shoot down her mother’s obvious excitement at possibly meeting him. Her parent had suffered enough disappointment today. An acquaintanceship existed between her and Guy, just enough to know each other’s names and acknowledge one another in passing. Dropping into his place for a fast bite meant nothing.

  Telling herself it meant nothing didn’t stop her from running a brush through her hair, reapplying lipstick, and taking the breath mint her mother offered after they pulled into the restaurant parking lot. Della exited the car, smoothing her hands over her top in an effort to remove any wrinkles.

  Her mother fluffed her own curls. “I hope he has a good chin line. I want my grandchildren to have decent chins.”

  “Mother!” Della hissed the word. “If you are going to act like that you can stay in the car.”

  “Wow! Once you unscrew the top off your sassy sauce bottle, there’s no end in sight.” She chuckled. “No worries, sweetie. Just joking. If you want, I can make myself scarce. There’s a sewing shop nearby, or I could visit the gun store.”

  She gave her mother a slight bump. “I might need you to twist the lid back on the sassy sauce before things get too messy.”

  The remark caused her mother to laugh as Della kne
w it would.

  Chapter Nineteen

  THE INTERIOR OF Burgers, Brews, and Books exuded a rustic feeling with weathered wood walls possibly recycled from pallets. Fire engine red pipes and air ducts wound their way across the ceiling. It reminded Della a little bit of a warehouse, except for the rows of bookcases crammed full of books. In one corner, a play area existed with a carpet printed with roads. Child size tables and chairs bordered the rug along with a bookcase devoted to puzzles and children’s games. The little ones would love that, especially if their parents lingered over a meal.

  Posted at random intervals READ posters with various celebrities brought in a library air. Pans banging and the rattle of silverware along with the aroma of burgers reassured anyone who might mistake the place for a silent sanctuary. Near the counter stood a wire rack with filled and stapled paper bags.

  “Excuse me!” A male voice called from behind her. Della stepped to her left as a young man wearing a jacket and hat of a local food delivery service moved toward the rack. He consulted his phone, picked up two bags, and yelled, “Pickup for Conklin and Stamm!”

  Guy emerged, wiping his hands on a dishtowel and said, “Good deal” while waving at the delivery dude.

  Della took the moment to observe him unnoticed. His black ball cap showed a burger with a beer in one hand and a book in the other. A white butcher’s apron wrapped around his waist. One hand rested on his lower back, but he appeared satisfied. Della could identify. She might have observed for a few more silent minutes, but not so with her mother, who cleared her throat.

  Guy turned in their direction. “Hello. We’re not really open for inside dining, just delivery. Still got a few tweaks to do on the dining—” He stopped in mid-spiel and exclaimed, “Della!”

  “Yep, that’s me. Only this time, I’m not in distress. I thought I’d come by and see how the restaurant was coming along.” Her mother cleared her throat again. “My mother and I thought we’d drop in for a bite, but if you’re not serving, we can come back another time.”

  Her mother worked her way from behind her to beside her and announced, “The door was open.”

  “For delivery,” Guy explained and leaned to look around them. “Ah, the sign is missing. He gestured to a counter with vinyl-covered bar stools reminiscent of a 1950s diner. “You’re welcome to sit at the counter. You may have noticed the tables and booths haven’t arrived yet.”

  “Don’t mind if I do,” her mother announced as she made her way to the counter.

  At times, her mother could be a tad pushy, and sometimes, Della felt like she needed to do damage control. “We can leave…” She directed her comment to Guy, who appeared amused at her mother’s antics.

  “Stay. You will be my first in-person customers, and I’d like to get your take on everything.”

  “Okay,” she agreed, vowing to be kind, but then she always was—mostly.

  Della joined her mother while Guy retrieved two menus for them. The entrées, while mainly burgers and sandwiches, were twists on literary names such as This Side of Burger Paradise or Chicken on a Hot Tin Roof. Della chose the Moby Dick, a whale of a fish sandwich, while her mother chose Frankenburger, a veggie burger.

  Guy called their orders in, brought them ice water and silverware, and asked what they liked to drink. Her mother opted for an iced tea while Della chose coffee, not that she needed the caffeine. She couldn’t help herself from checking out the competition, even though the restaurant could hardly be competition for the bakery, especially considering the across town location.

  After he delivered the drinks, he asked if they wanted straws. Mabel insisted she did while Della said no. Guy provided a paper-wrapped straw. “It’s paper. I figured you should know. They don’t last as long as plastic but are so much better for the environment. I’m trying to be eco-friendly. He gestured to the dining room. “The paneling is repurposed, as well as the bookcases. I’m trying to cut down on everything that goes to the landfill—plus it’s tons cheaper.”

  “Hear ya,” Della responded. “As a baker and caterer, I always have my ears open for auctions or sales on restaurant equipment. Never know when a needed item will come available.”

  “Whoa.” Guy’s eyebrows arched, and his lips rounded. He leaned forward, placing his elbows on the counter. “Tell me more. I lucked out on this place since it was a defunct restaurant. A wings-sports bar type of place, I heard. Rumor was it never opened. Not sure why, but probably money. Everything always seems to cost more than anticipated. As far as equipment, all that was left was the grill and the deep fryers. I’m grateful for that. I bought some upright freezers at the scratch and dent appliance sale. I never considered auctions. Are there many?”

  Della found herself explaining how to sign up online for a restaurant auction site, but cautioned it served a buyer to show up in person to check out the merchandise first. Not everything worked, which she found out the hard way.

  “Thanks,” Guy exclaimed and beamed. His eyes twinkled as he asked, “Maybe you can help me with PR.”

  That was something Della wrestled with on her own. “Can’t help you there. I’m still working on that myself. You need to get your name out there in a positive fashion with the minimum of expense.”

  Mabel sipped her tea but put her glass down with a thump, splashing a tiny bit on her hand. “Sponsorship.”

  “Sponsorship?” Guy repeated her statement. “Not sure what you mean. Could you explain?”

  On that point, Della was rather curious, too. Sponsorship never came up in any of her mother’s conversations before. Why all of a sudden did it show up when conversing with Guy? She focused on her mother as she explained.

  “Well, all these different organizations have contests and events that need sponsors. Take the Humane Society’s Dog Stroll. It raises money for the shelter but needs money to put on the event. Sponsors get their name on the website with links, plus a sponsor sheet is put in with all the merchandise in the goody bag. Often, the sponsor’s names are printed on the T-shirts given out at the event. The organizers keep reminding everyone to visit or shop the sponsors. Those who support the cause automatically have a good feeling about them. It’s a way to get your foot in the door. Consider while the promotion is going on for the event and during the event, your name is out there. You could capitalize on it by offering a Dog Stroll Special. Even after the event, your name is still out there since past sponsors are often kept on the site to encourage new ones. It’s sort of, look at all the other companies that are sponsoring us. It’s a win-win situation. Much better than an expensive ad in the newspaper that almost no one notices.”

  “Wow!” Guy enthused and held up one finger when he heard the call of order up. “Be back in a minute.”

  Della took the moment to query her mother. “You never said anything about sponsorship to me.”

  “There’s a big difference between burgers and catering an event. Someone might pop in for a meal to support a sponsor, but I doubt they’d host a wedding or event to thank a sponsor.”

  “They could,” Della insisted. She was a little miffed her mother had never told her about this opportunity. “Besides, there’s always the bakery. Don’t forget there are plenty of people going to the dog stroll who may have events in their future. As opposed to them planning an event just because I functioned as a sponsor, there could be a wedding or anniversary already in their near future.”

  Her mother held a finger to her lips. “Guy’s coming back,” she hissed.

  The two of them pasted on smiles as Guy centered the fragrant, warm entrées in front of them. The chef in her gave the presentation of the large crispy filet on a toasted bun, accompanied by golden seasoned fries and a generous dill wedge on a plain white china plate a B+. It needed something else to complete it.

  An employee carried a small tray with a red dish of coleslaw with a single piece of parsley sticking out like a tiny tree on the mounded slaw. Guy placed the dish on Della’s plate. “There you go.”

&
nbsp; She’d have to raise the grade to an A-. Pretty darn impressive for a fast-food meal. She wouldn’t have expected china, which earned him extra points. Della bit into the sandwich, savoring the flakiness of the fish and the spice blend. As delicious as the fish was, the bun with its rich egg flavor and texture dazzled her. “This bun is incredible. What’s your brand?”

  He tapped his chest. “It’s my own.”

  Not wanting a competitor duplicating their signature meal, many restaurants kept their suppliers quiet. “It’s all right. You don’t have to tell me.”

  “No, it’s really me. I made it. Back as a youngster, I trained as a boulanger, a baker, in Louisville, Kentucky and landed a job at a posh restaurant. I worked there a couple of years until the restaurant closed due to the owner’s gambling issue.” He grimaced. “Most restaurants aren’t looking for a trained baker. Instead, they have high school kids, pulling out frozen loaves of bread and baking them.”

  “This is excellent. Probably the best bun I’ve ever had. Have you considered selling your bread?”

  “Not commercially.” Guy’s gaze turned thoughtful as he stared past them. “As part of a meal, but never on its own. Who would buy it?”

  “Anyone who ever tasted it. People who visit your restaurant. I would.” She held up one finger. “You might want to be careful about selling to competitors because this could be your draw to get people inside the restaurant. Maybe you could host a booth at the farmer’s market and serve up tiny sliders.”

  Guy shook his head. “You two are full of great ideas. Most of the stuff we talked about happens in the warmer weather. Is there anything I can do or sponsor now?”

  “Got it. Just the thing.” Mabel slapped her hands together. “There’s a truffle contest happening. You could be a sponsor and…” She waited for a moment for the greatest effect. “…you could have a coupon about buy one burger and get one half off. Something that would go on the website.”