Quiche of Death

by Mary Lee Ashford

  I slipped back into the house and quietly shut the door, relocking the dead bolt. The quiet was broken by a sharp, high-pitched bark. Probably Colette’s little dog. I hoped she was settling down for the night and wasn’t planning on staying up, because she’d already irritated a few people at dinner.

  I meant the dog, of course, but the same could be said for Colette.

  Not wanting to be the cause of any further commotion, I made my way up the stairs as quietly as I could.

  Carefully opening the door and creeping into the bedroom, I carried my cosmetics bag to the bathroom and set it on the counter.

  “Did you find it?” Dixie asked from the bed, where she was already wrapped up in the soft covers.

  “Yes, I did.”

  “Now you can finish getting ready for bed without worrying about missing out on those steps.” Dixie rolled back over. “Good night.”

  “I’ll try not to make too much noise,” I said to her back as I flipped the switch on the bedside lamp by my bed. “Will this light bother you?”

  I waited for her to answer, but all I got was a soft snore. Though we’d never shared a room, it didn’t surprise me that Dixie was one of those awake-then-out people who could fall asleep almost immediately. I, unfortunately, did not drift off so easily. Hanging up my jacket, I plugged in my activity tracker and finished getting ready for bed.

  Propping up several pillows, I settled in and reached for a mystery book I’d just started. After a couple of chapters I felt my eyelids getting heavy.

  Closing the book, I turned out the light and snuggled under the quilt, thinking about all the tasty dishes we were going to collect for the Arbor family cookbook.

  Chapter Two

  I hadn’t set an alarm on the small clock by the bed, but I had set one on my phone for six-thirty. As it turned out, neither was needed, as I woke up at six o’clock on my own. Dixie was sound asleep, so I quietly brushed my teeth and pulled on my running, aka walking, clothes.

  I could take care of my early-morning steps and have a jump-start on the day before breakfast.

  The house was quiet, though I thought I could hear someone moving around in the kitchen, and the smells coming from that direction promised something tasty for the morning menu.

  Opening the door and stepping outside, I looked around. I was a little afraid to try the road that led to the B and B because it didn’t have a wide shoulder and I didn’t want a run-in with a car. The Arbor House property covered several acres, according to Gwen, so I figured I could trek the area behind the house without trespassing on someone else’s property.

  I headed to the back and started a brisk walking pace. The grass was a bit damp from morning dew, but the temperature was nice, and it was so relaxing to keep moving without any interruptions. I’d been walking in the mornings for the past month and, unless I was really early, most of my neighbors were up. Don’t get me wrong, I love living in a small town and knowing my neighbors, but stopping to chat really messes with my ability to get all my walking in.

  The backyard couldn’t really be called that. At least not as it related to most backyards. It was more like a park. The big green expanse was broken up only by the archery range and the pickleball court. Gwen had explained pickleball to me yesterday. I hadn’t realized the paddle sport was so popular. It looked like fun. Maybe Dixie and I would get a chance to try it out. I wasn’t sure I’d be any good, but running after that ball would certainly up my step count.

  Not that I was obsessed with my steps.

  I had just completed my circle of the area near the court and started toward the archery range, when I heard a bark and saw a streak of white out of the corner of my eye.

  Oh, no.

  It looked like Colette’s little poodle had gotten loose and was running around the area off leash. There were probably dozens of things she could be getting into that she shouldn’t. Things much worse than eating chocolate mousse.

  I tiptoed in her direction.

  “Come here,” I called.

  She stopped and tipped her head to one side as if she didn’t quite understand.

  “Come. Here.” I tried again. Maybe the dog only understood French. I tried to think whether I knew any French that would be helpful. My vocabulary, unfortunately, was limited to being able to adequately order in a French restaurant and didn’t include calling a dog.

  “Come, sweetie,” I coaxed as I continued toward her, searching my pockets to see if I had anything that might serve as a treat to coax the dog to me. Or at least something that might look like a treat. Normally, I wouldn’t be so devious in tricking the poor pup, but if she headed for the nearby woods at best she could end up covered in brambles, and at worst she could get attacked by a predator.

  As I got closer, I could see Frenchie was technically not off leash. The bling-studded pink tether was still attached but trailing behind her as she ran to-and-fro. She spotted me and ran toward me and then, as I reached down to grab her, she took off.

  “Okay, you trickster.” I ran after her. Okay, more like a really fast walk.

  Frenchie circled back, darting past me in the other direction. Goofy dog. At least I’d be racking up steps on my tracker. Again, not that I’m obsessed.

  “Come on, come here.” I patted my leg.

  She headed back toward the archery targets and I followed. Stopping behind one, she barked again. I hurried forward, thinking I could grab ahold of the leash and as I did, I tripped over something and fell to the ground, skidding across the grass. There went my pristine new exercise pants.

  What on earth had I stumbled over?

  Stunned by the impact, I slowly opened my eyes.

  Sightless violet eyes stared back at me; perfectly platinum hair was matted with blood. She must have hit her head when she fell. But I didn’t think it was the head wound that had killed Colette.

  I was pretty sure it was the arrow sticking out of her chest.

  My own heartbeat pounded in my ears.

  I struggled to stand and to comprehend what I was seeing.

  I tried to scream but couldn’t force any sound around the lump that had formed in my throat. Once on my feet, I snatched up the now-still dog and took off.

  At first in the wrong direction. As my senses returned, I corrected course and ran as hard as I could toward the house.

  Opening the first door I came to, I ran directly into Jonathan Arbor.

  “There’s—it’s—Colette.” I pointed toward the backyard. “Behind the tar—” My brain couldn’t come up with the words to explain, but my tone of voice must have conveyed the urgency.

  J.J. stepped forward, and I realized all the siblings were gathered in the lower-level sunroom.

  “What’s wrong?” Jezzie asked, grabbing my arm.

  “Hurt,” I said and pointed again.

  All three shot out the door and toward the archery range. I sat down in the nearest chair, still holding Frenchie, who nuzzled into the crook of my arm as if she too was shaken.

  I don’t know how much time passed before they came back, but one look at the solemn faces told me I’d been right. Colette was dead.

  “Let’s get you upstairs.” Jonathan helped me up from the chair. The sunroom stairs led to a deck off the back of the house, which unfortunately overlooked the back of the house and gave a clear view of the archery range. Someone had covered Colette with a blanket.

  It didn’t matter. Sightless violet eyes and blond hair tinged with blood were etched into my memory.

  I turned to the group who had followed behind Jonathan and me. “I’m just going to go upstairs and change.”

  Climbing the stairs, I suddenly realized I still held the poodle.

  When I opened the door to our room, Dixie was propped up on the bed, leafing through the Arbor House cookbook we’d worked on. She stopped mid–page-turn.

&n
bsp; “I was about to come looking for you.” She looked me up and down. “What happened to you? And why do you have the dog?”

  I tried to set the poodle on the bed, but she was having none of that.

  “Colette is dead. Shot with an arrow. Out there.” I waved my hand in what I thought was the general direction of the back of the house.

  “What?” Dixie jumped up. “Are you okay?”

  “No.” I felt my lip quiver. “I’m not. I went for a walk, and it was still kind of dark and Frenchie here was running around, and I tried to catch her and tripped over Colette.”

  I took a gulp of air and sat down on the bed.

  “She had an arrow sticking out of…” I tapped my chest.

  “Jeepers.” Dixie sat back down. “It’s too early for anyone to be on the archery range. And what would she have been doing out there anyway?”

  “I think maybe taking this one for a walk.” I nodded toward Frenchie, who still was stuck to me like glue.

  “Here, let me take her so you can clean up and change.” Dixie held out her hands.

  I tried to hand over the dog, but she resisted, finally yielding and letting Dixie take her but not without a whimper of protest.

  I grabbed a change of clothes and entered the bathroom. Washing my face and changing into clean clothes helped a bit. Applying a bit of makeup added some color so I wasn’t quite so pale. I quickly ran a brush through my hair and stepped back into the bedroom.

  “Better?” I asked.

  “Yes. Not that you looked bad.” Dixie held Frenchie against her, petting the dog’s head, but the pup struggled to get to me as soon as she spotted me. “I think you’ve got a friend here.”

  “She’s probably traumatized by what happened to her human.” I picked her up and she immediately tucked herself back into her former position.

  “I imagine.” Dixie shook her head. “Suppose we’d better head downstairs and see what’s happening. I assume they called the police.”

  “I didn’t wait to find out.”

  Closing the door behind us, we could hear voices from the main floor. Once we’d reached the bottom of the stairs, it was clear the family had assembled in the living room.

  “Would you like some coffee?” Gwen appeared with a cup and a carafe of coffee.

  “Oh, yes, please.” I accepted the cup and held it out so she could pour. Frenchie shifted so she didn’t lose contact with my side.

  Gwen turned toward Dixie, holding out a cup.

  “No, thank you.”

  “There’s also tea.” Gwen pointed toward a tray that sat on the walnut library table. “Or other things to drink in the kitchen. Just let me know what you’d like.”

  “Tea will be fine.” Dixie moved toward the table.

  An awkward silence followed me as I juggled the dog and my coffee, and made my way toward the couch.

  “Where are they?” Jezzie looked at her watch. “We called them over twenty minutes ago. It’s a good thing this wasn’t an emergency.”

  “Let’s stay calm.” J.J. held up his hands. “The dispatcher said they were tied up at an accident scene and would get to us as soon as they could.”

  I took a sip of my coffee and looked around the room. Everyone was present. Jezzie and Tom, J.J. and Lucinda, Jonathan and Gwen. Wait—where was Theo? I wondered who’d had the awful task of breaking the news to him. Probably his mother or father. I was sort of rooting for Tom. Maybe Jezzie had a softer side but, if so, I hadn’t seen it yet.

  Dixie joined me on the couch. “You know we’re still in Jameson County, right?”

  “No, I did not know that,” I whispered. That meant that the investigator would be a county sheriff that we knew all too well.

  It seemed like hours passed, but it was probably only minutes. The atmosphere was tense and a bit odd. How could it not be?

  Jezzie, a doer, was definitely having trouble sitting still. Her foot-tapping was about to drive me crazy. Tom, her husband, seemed oblivious to it. But then my impression had been Tom was most of the time unaware of what was going on around him. It looked like he might be using the time for a quick nap.

  J.J. paced back and forth, sat down by his wife, got back up. Lucinda had some papers in her hand and periodically jotted notes. Gwen had told me Lucinda was a former history professor before she had gotten into doing genealogy. She’d promised to mention my interest to Lucinda in case she could share some tips. Maybe she was taking advantage of the waiting to catch up on some of her research.

  Gwen busied herself with making sure people had beverages and Jonathan flipped through messages on his phone.

  I got up and refilled my coffee cup from the carafe Gwen had left on the table.

  * * * *

  I watched out the window as the Jameson County sheriff’s car pulled into the parking area. Sheriff Terry Griffin got out and J.J. walked out to meet him. The two men talked as they approached the house, and soon I could hear the front door open and close.

  “Your sheriff is here,” I whispered to Dixie.

  She didn’t say it, but gave me the not my sheriff look. It was an ongoing ribbing between us and maybe inappropriate, given the circumstances. But somehow the slip into something routine and normal helped me deal with the awfulness.

  The sheriff walked into the room, looked around at the assembled group, and came to a full stop when he spotted the two of us.

  “I’m Sheriff Griffin,” he introduced himself to the rest. “I’m sorry for the delay and for your loss.” He paused for a moment. “I’m going to have a look outside and then I’d like to talk to everyone, so if you wouldn’t mind hanging out here for a few more minutes, I’ll be right back.”

  “This way.” J.J. gestured toward the hallway that led through the kitchen and to the back porch.

  “Just a second.” The sheriff turned back to the group. “When was the last time anyone saw…” He glanced down at his notes. “Colette?”

  “She was gone when I woke up this morning.” Theo stepped in from the hallway. Apparently he had been close by. “I didn’t think anything of it though because I just figured she’d taken Frenchie out.”

  “Frenchie?” the sheriff asked.

  “Yes.” Theo nodded toward me. “Her poodle.”

  “Ah.” The sheriff gave me a nod and then turned to follow J.J. down the hall.

  The subdued group hadn’t needed to be asked to stick around; it didn’t seem like anyone was interested in going about their day.

  “When I get a chance to talk with Gwendolyn, I’ll ask what she’d like us to do.” I leaned in to speak in a low voice to Dixie. “The family may prefer that we give them some privacy.”

  “Whatever you decide is fine by me.” She shifted on the couch. “If they want to postpone the whole project, we’ll make it work.”

  “We’ve got a couple of things in the works.” I absently patted Frenchie’s head. “The Diamondback Lake Community cookbook is almost done, and the other one with the Ladies’ Aid group is just getting started. We should be able to reschedule this if that’s what they want to do.”

  Dixie nodded agreement.

  Hilda had brought coffee and blueberry muffins for everyone earlier and now she was making the rounds, refilling cups and collecting plates. Quiet and efficient, she moved from person to person without interrupting the conversations. Her salt-and-pepper hair was cropped close to her head, a pixie cut, my stylist would have called it. But there was nothing pixie-ish about Hilda. Though she wasn’t a large woman, she had what I would call a solid build. Arms that could lift a tray of empty dishes or mash a mess of potatoes. Strength gained from hard work, not a workout at the gym. I wondered what she thought of the siblings and if she’d known any of them as kids. And what her take was on Colette’s death. Sometimes the people in the background are great observers. My musings were interrupted as
Jezzie jumped to her feet.

  “Be careful, Mother.” She hurried to the stairs as Marta made her way down slowly.

  Jonathan moved across the room and offered her his arm. He escorted her to an easy chair close to where I was sitting near the fireplace. More importantly, away from the window.

  “Mother Arbor, can I get you a coffee or tea?” Gwen offered as her husband got his mother settled.

  “Thank you, dear.” Marta eased back into the chair. “I would have a tea if it’s not too much trouble.”

  “No trouble at all.” Gwen headed off to the kitchen.

  Jezzie said something to Theo I couldn’t quite hear.

  “Jezebel Rebecca Arbor, I’m old but I’m not feeble. Nor am I hard of hearing.” Marta glared. “Yes, I do know what’s going on. Not that anyone bothered to tell me directly.”

  I wasn’t sure whether we were talking about the dead fiancée or something else, but the tension between mother and daughter was palpable. And believe me, I’m an expert on mother-daughter tension.

  “Terrible business this.” The older woman turned toward me.

  “It is,” I agreed.

  “I understand you found her.”

  I nodded.

  She started to say something else, but Sheriff Terry was back and ready to talk with the family. He took a spot in the middle of the room.

  “I’m going to want to talk to everyone individually. Most of the interviews won’t take very long. The coroner is on his way, along with a crime scene team, so I’ll have to ask you to stay away from the backyard for now.”

  “A crime scene team?” Theo paled. “You think someone meant to kill Colette?”

  “We don’t know at this point,” Sheriff Terry explained. “That’s why we need to take a cautious approach and be careful not to destroy any evidence that might help us figure that out.”

  “It is deer season,” J.J. commented.

  Deer season? I looked at Dixie. I didn’t know a lot about hunting, but it didn’t seem to me to be likely that Colette had been mistaken for a deer.