Quiche of Death

by Mary Lee Ashford

  “That’s true,” Grace Nelson, the proprietor of a small shop that stocked locally made wine, agreed. “We weren’t sure how a business that wasn’t actually a store would fit in.”

  “I say we give them a chance to answer our questions.” Dixie raised her voice to be heard over the din of side conversations that had started up again.

  There were several nods of agreement.

  Krissie jumped on the whiff of consensus. “Okay then, if we’re all good with that as a next step, I’ll write back with all of the questions you’ve asked. And we’ll await a response from the Glue Man Group.”

  Dixie swiveled her head to look at me, but this time I suppressed the snicker.

  “I think they probably need to talk to an attorney before they get into too much of a rush.” I stabbed the last piece of pie with my fork and waved it toward the room in general. “My guess that if the zoning and all that allows it, there’s very little that can be done.”

  “I’m sure you’re right about that.” Dixie finished the final bite of her pie as well, and stood. “Ready?”

  “I am,” I responded.

  We had walked over from the office so I could get a few more steps in. We’d hoped the meeting would be short and it hadn’t been too bad.

  We dropped our plates and silverware in the tub that had been provided for dirty dishes and headed toward the door. But we found our path blocked by the St. Ignatius news reporter.

  “Would you like to give a comment on the murder at Arbor House?” He used his big broadcast voice, like he was announcing a best-selling mystery novel.

  How the news had traveled to St. Ignatius so quickly, I didn’t know. I’m sure the local news had covered Colette’s death, but there’d been no mention of us. And I knew the sheriff hadn’t shared any information. They’d interviewed him on TV but he’d been terse in his responses.

  I think it went something like, “I can’t comment. The investigation is ongoing.” Followed by “No comment” on all the follow-up questions from the television reporter from the local affiliate.

  “Glen, they don’t know that it’s a murder.” Dixie continued walking.

  “That’s right,” I confirmed, “it’s just a suspicious death.” I too continued toward the door.

  But it was too late.

  The room had gone silent.

  I slowly swiveled, but I could feel all the eyes on us before I turned.

  “You girls are involved in a murder again?” Toy George asked from across the room. “You’d better get back in here and fill us in.”

  Chapter Nine

  The following afternoon, Max pulled into my driveway right on time.

  I smiled and waved at Mrs. Pickett, who was outside raking leaves in her housecoat. With curlers in her hair. Wearing yellow rain boots.

  It was early autumn and very few leaves had fallen so far. But knowing Mrs. Pickett, no doubt she’d decided to tackle them early. She didn’t wave back.

  Max picking me up in his Land Rover would give her something to stew about for a while.

  As we headed out of town, I asked Max if he needed any help with finding the bed-and-breakfast. He’d never been there and it wasn’t the easiest to find. But he said he’d looked it up and thought he was good.

  I’m pretty sure that was his polite way of saying he didn’t trust my directions. He’s a smart guy.

  On the drive there we talked about how things were going with his photo projects and how unseasonably cool it had been. We chatted about what we were reading. Me, a new historical mystery by a new-to-me author. Him, a group biography of several photographers told by a former assistant to Ansel Adams. I shared the latest cat antics from my house and he shared his most recent homeowner/landowner woes. We talked about anything and everything.

  That is, everything except the death at Arbor House. Which was fine by me after the grilling Dixie and I had been through after the Square Merchants meeting last night.

  Max drove directly to the road where the bed-and-breakfast was located, and I pointed out the sign that marked the entrance.

  When we made the turn into the drive, I waited for Max’s reaction. The place was stunning. I’d likened it to a fairy house the first time I’d seen it and had hoped one day for both Dixie and Max to get the opportunity.

  I watched as his photographer’s gaze roved over the three-story Victorian, soft pastels of the paint, the vivid colors of the flowers and trees, and so unexpected here in the middle of nowhere.

  He turned and smiled at me, a flash and a twinkle in his blue eyes. “I see why you like it so much.”

  * * * *

  It was odd being back at Arbor House. The family had collected in the living room to be photographed.

  Max was great with food photos and I’d also seen some of his outdoor work, which was his specialty, but I’d never actually seen him work with people. I’d given him an idea of the type of pictures we were looking to include in the cookbook, but I also knew he often had his own ideas. And truth be told, they were often better than mine.

  The only instruction he’d asked me to give the family was that he’d like them to avoid patterns in their clothing. Solid colors. It seemed they’d all complied. Although they were mostly conservative dressers. In fact, come to think of it, I’d not seen any of them in much of anything with wild patterns.

  I introduced Max to the group and then stood aside to let him do his thing.

  Positioning the whole group on the stairs, he took several shots.

  “What about the possibility of getting a few photos of you eating together?” he asked. “That would fit in well with what you’re going for, wouldn’t it, Sugar?”

  I nodded. “It would.”

  “Lucinda had found some older photos of a family get-together I believe at this very table. I had thought I might include it.” I stopped. “With your approval, of course.” I looked across the room to the eldest, Joe, Jr.

  “J.J., are you being difficult?” Lucinda asked. “It’s not a top-secret photo and it’s not unflattering to any of you. Surely you know I wouldn’t do that.”

  “I’m sure he just wants to make sure the family is shown in the best light.” Jezzie gave her a hard look. “What with this murder and everything.”

  She turned to look at Theo like she thought it was his fault for bringing Colette. How very inconvenient of her to get shot with an arrow.

  Max turned to me again. “So you don’t want a photo of them at the dining room table or you do?”

  “It would be great to have a more current one to put with the vintage one if everyone is amenable to that,” I answered.

  “If there isn’t time, can I come back and do that?” Max asked. “Is everyone here or are there more coming?”

  “No, this is everyone. And it’s silly to have you make another trip.” Gwendolyn stood. “If it’s convenient, why don’t you and Sugar stay and have dinner with us. I know Sugar is dying to chat with Lucinda about her genealogy research because they didn’t get to it during the weekend. And I’m sure one of us can show you around the property or find you a corner where you can put your feet up.”

  Max nodded in my direction. “That works for me, but it’s up to Sugar.”

  “I can make that work.” I waited. “If it’s okay with all of you.”

  There were nods from all and so it was decided.

  “I’d also like a group photo on the front porch, if you don’t mind.” Max broke the awkwardness. “The lighting is great this late in the day and the colors of the house and flowers will add some nice contrast.”

  “Come on, let’s get moving so I can get a nap in before dinner.” Marta hadn’t spoken up until now.

  I wondered what she thought of the tension between her children and their spouses. It was probably good there was a limit to this family reunion of sorts.


  Everyone filed out to the porch. Max seated Marta in a white wicker chair and let the others position themselves around her. Jonathan and Gwen stood beside the chair, arms around each other. J.J., the tallest, was directly behind his mother with Lucinda beside him, and then Jezzie and Tom on the other side. It was a nice family photo.

  Max moved a few of the flowerpots to get the effect he wanted and then asked if everyone was ready.

  “Wait.” Jezzie looked around. “Where’s Theo?”

  Had he not come outside when we all filed out?

  “I’m right here.” He spoke from the doorway, where he stood with a glass of wine in his hand. “Don’t have a cow, Mother.”

  “You can’t blame me for being nervous, with the way things have gone since we arrived,” she snapped.

  “Where do you want me?” he asked Max, draining his wine and setting the glass on a small table.

  “Let’s try something.” Max pointed. “Would you sit near your grandmother’s feet?”

  “No problem.” Theo positioned himself on the porch floor at Marta’s feet.

  It really was a great grouping: The family, all beautiful in their own way, the muted colors they wore, the riot of flowers, and the soft tones of the siding as a backdrop. Max took a lot of shots. I knew from experience he’d sort them out later and select a few of the best ones for Dixie and me to look at. Or in this case, for the family.

  “Thanks, everyone.” He was finally done and the group began to disperse. Walking over to where I stood leaning against the porch railing, he stopped. “Was it really okay with you for us to stick around until mealtime?”

  “Absolutely.” I brushed off my skirt. “Gwen was correct. I have been wanting to spend some time with Lucinda but haven’t had a chance. If she’s free, I’ll take her up on her offer to show me how she’s been doing her research.”

  “Still wanting to find your father’s family?” he asked.

  “I am.” I nodded. “I’ve always wanted to, but the box of his things has made me even more curious.” A few months back I’d gotten a package from my father’s agent. A few photos, some personal effects, and an unfinished manuscript. There had been very few clues, but from what Lucinda had shared with me, it sounded like even a few clues gave you a place to start.

  “Can you keep yourself busy?” I asked.

  “Plenty to photograph.” He glanced around. “I’ll check and make sure of where I can and can’t go.”

  “You’d probably better check with J.J.,” I noted. “He seems to be the one who is particular about what’s fair game and what’s not.”

  “Yeah, I noticed that.” He looped his camera bag over his shoulder and headed toward the door. Holding it open, he motioned me ahead. “After you.”

  Lucinda stood chatting with Jonathan, who had his computer out. She looked up as we came inside.

  “Would you like to see what I’m doing?” she asked.

  “I would,” I responded.

  “Follow me.” She motioned toward the stairs. “The downstairs study is for guests, but upstairs there’s another. It must have been another library of sorts, and I’ve been using it for my work area while I’m here.”

  “Anything I can help you with?” Jonathan addressed Max. While his tone was polite, I detected a bit of relief when Max shook his head.

  “No, I’m good.” He tapped his camera. “I’d like to look around the property a bit, if that’s okay.”

  “No problem.” Jonathan went back to whatever he’d been doing on his computer.

  “Sugar seemed to think I should check with your brother, J.J.,” Max clarified. “Do I need to do that?”

  “I think the only area you need to avoid is where the police have marked it off with that yellow plastic,” Jonathan answered. “But J.J. is out back if you want to check.”

  “Got it,” Max responded and headed outside.

  I turned and followed Lucinda to the stairs.

  “Seems like maybe you and our photographer are more than business associates,” Lucinda noted as we made our way up the staircase.

  “We’re friends as well.” Not sure how much I wanted to share about my relationship with Max, I gave her the simplest answer.

  “He looks at you like it’s more than friends.”

  I felt my cheeks warm. I liked that idea, but like I’d told Dixie, we were taking things slow.

  Lucinda opened the first door at the top of the stairs to a book-lined room. There was a very large table in the middle of the room and a rolltop desk off to the side. The table was covered with files and an open laptop sat on one side.

  “Wow.” I took in the stacks of papers, photographs, and newspaper clippings. “You’ve been busy.” I was glad for the change in topic.

  “I have, but I enjoy the research.” She laid a hand on the computer. “I did it in dribs and drabs when I was still working, but now that I have the time, I’m able to dig a little deeper.”

  “What did you do before you retired?” I hadn’t thought to ask before.

  “I was a history teacher.”

  No wonder she was so interested in family history.

  “I’ve been digging into my family’s background for quite a while and my family is from this county as well. So, when I came across records that related to the Arbor family, I’ve been saving those. It’s amazing how many times our families crossed paths.”

  “I have to confess that I have no idea where to start,” I told her. “You may regret offering to show me the ropes, because I am a complete beginner.”

  “Don’t worry about that.” She lifted some files off one of the chairs. “Have a seat and I’ll show you some basics.”

  I settled into the chair and she handed me a yellow pad.

  “First off, write down everything you know.”

  “I’m afraid it’s not very much at all.”

  “That’s okay.” She tapped the tablet. “Write it down and we’ll start from there.”

  I did as she asked.

  “Okay, let’s start with getting you familiar with some of the tools at your disposal.” She pulled the computer toward us.

  We spent the next hour and a half with Lucinda showing me places where I could begin looking for records related to my father’s adoptive parents. I was amazed at the number of free resources that were available. I filled a page with notes on websites with access to public records.

  “You should teach a class for people who are, like me, starting down this path.”

  “I may at some point, but right now, I’m trying to spend my time putting together as much as I can of the Brevard family. Hopefully, I can leave my daughter with more knowledge of her ancestors than I had.”

  “Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t realize that you and J.J. had a daughter.” I’d been under the impression that Theo was the only grandchild.

  “We don’t. My daughter is from my first marriage,” she explained. “Calle is the only good thing that came of it.”

  “Does she live close by?” I asked. “Will she be joining you for the week here?”

  “She’s away at college, I’m afraid.” Lucinda tucked a lock of salt-and-pepper hair behind her ear. “It’s taken her a while, but she’s finishing up a doctorate in women’s history.”

  “Have you and J.J. been married long, then?” I realized as soon as the words were out of my mouth how nosy the question sounded. “I’m sorry, that’s none of my business.”

  “No problem.” She laughed. “We met at college. Not when we were attending college like normal people, but much later. I was teaching a history class and J.J. was auditing the class. I suppose we might have come across each other as children because my family came from this area, but I don’t remember him at all.

  “My family was poor; my father died when I was young, my mother raised me and my sister all on her own.
I’m not sure what happened with my father, but there were a lot of secrets around the house. That’s probably what drove me to research the past.” She leaned back from the computer with a wistful look in her eyes.

  “Not dissimilar to my family, except that my father and mother divorced, and with Daddy not around and him being a topic my mother was reluctant to discuss, I have very little background to go on. As you can see.” I pointed at the paper.

  “Well, I think we have a place for you to start.” Lucinda set aside the papers she’d been showing me and stood. “I don’t know about you, but I could use something cold to drink.”

  “Sounds good to me.” I stood also and stretched my legs. My step-tracker reminded me that I had a long way to go to meet my goal for the day. The car ride had not helped at all and then I’d sat talking with Lucinda for the past hour or so.

  We made our way down the stairs and into the living room, which was deserted. Hearing voices from the direction of the kitchen, we followed the sounds.

  Max leaned against the center island. He wore a bright orange vest over his clothes.

  “We definitely can see you coming,” I noted.

  “J.J. suggested I put this on because I wanted to go into the woods, and since it is hunting season it would make me easy to spot.”

  Given that Colette had been wearing a dark green jacket when I found her, it seemed like a good idea. I kept thinking if it turned out to be a hunting accident, it could be that coat had worked against her. If she’d worn the bright pink coat she’d had on when she arrived, the outcome might have been different.

  Maybe the hunters would have seen her.

  Maybe it would have saved her life.

  In any case, I was glad that control-freak J.J. had insisted on a neon orange vest for Max.

  It took me a few minutes, but I realized there was someone else in the kitchen and she was also wearing a bright orange vest.