Two Bites Too Many

by Debra H. Goldstein

  In all the mystery books she’d read, the police came to the victim’s funeral to observe the mourners because they knew the murderer would be present. The killer came, being cool about his presence, to enjoy his handiwork. Sarah hoped the chief’s seat choice wasn’t telegraphing his thoughts about Lance’s murder. She peered around the sanctuary again, figuring if the police behaved like fictional characters, the murderer had to be somewhere in the room.

  No one jumped out at her.

  CHAPTER THIRTY

  Sarah hurried downstairs to the fellowship hall during the final hymn. Using flowers, colored tablecloths, and food, Emily and Grace had transformed the fellowship hall from its usual utilitarian look. Even Sarah, who rarely noticed that kind of thing, was aware it was lovely. The only thing that bothered her were the pretty napkins placed strategically on the serving tables with the Howellian insignia. In Sarah’s gut, she knew they should read Southwind.

  She walked up to a serving table where Grace was arranging different types of pickup desserts for the funeral reception. For a moment, with Emily out of sight, this felt like a déjà vu moment. It had been Grace who helped Sarah keep things going during the food expo when Emily was taken to the police station. Sarah originally had been nervous working with Grace, but her initial misgivings had rapidly disappeared. Despite her appearance and youth, Grace was one hundred percent wiser in the kitchen than Sarah. Her knife skills and following of restaurant protocol were impressive.

  “Hi, Grace! Looks like you have everything under control, but is there anything I can do to help?”

  Grace jumped, almost dropping the tray. “You scared me. I didn’t hear you come up behind me.”

  “Sorry.” Sarah repeated her offer to help.

  “It would be great if you could finish transferring these desserts from our serving tray to the silver platter while I get the coffee urns ready.” Grace handed Sarah the tray she’d barely held on to. “Just keep repeating the pattern I started.”

  “Will do. Where’s Emily?”

  “In the kitchen.”

  Sarah placed the tray in a clear space on the table. “I’ll just pop in to say ‘hi’ to her before I finish this.”

  “I wouldn’t do that.”

  “Why not?”

  “Marcus and she have been exchanging words for about the last ten minutes. Better to stay out here and finish with the desserts.”

  “Aye, aye.” Sarah gave Grace a mock salute while staring at the closed door to the kitchen. Getting into the middle of a disagreement between her sister and Marcus was the last thing she wanted to do. Instead, Sarah kept her head down and concentrated on carefully lining up the mini-desserts. She recognized the carrot cake and red velvet cupcakes, but she wasn’t sure what the yellowish one in green paper with a dab of icing and a few nuts on top was.

  Sarah looked around to see if Grace was busy. Not only was she doing something, but her back was to Sarah. Perfect. Sarah popped one of the unknown mini-cupcakes into her mouth. The delightful taste of banana nut bread filled her mouth. It was delicious, but Sarah made herself not eat another one. They were for the reception guests.

  As she put the last cupcake on the silver platter, the kitchen door opened. Marcus came out. He walked to where Sarah was, but he wasn’t looking at her. His gaze was on the x-shaped serving tables. Without saying anything to Grace or her, he turned and left the fellowship hall. Sarah watched him go until she heard Emily come up beside her.

  “He’s not happy with me,” Emily said.

  “He’ll get over it.”

  “I hope so.”

  Any further discussion was cut off by the arrival of the first group of funeral guests. Sarah doubted any of this group was the murderer, but from the way they attacked the serving tables, she thought they all qualified as vultures.

  By the time the first onslaught of mourners went through the line, Grace and Sarah were busily changing out the trays of finger sandwiches, desserts, and other goodies with refills Emily prepared in the kitchen. From the comments she overheard, Sarah knew the reception was a success, and it was being laid directly at the feet of Thomas Howell and the Howellian.

  She could tell, from the way he was holding court in the middle of the room. Thomas knew it, too. Observing his smile, glad-handing, and physical demeanor would have been enough for her to gather an impression, but it was confirmed when he signaled her over as if she was a taxicab he was hailing.

  “This is Sarah Blair,” he announced to anyone in earshot. “Sarah’s sister, Emily, is my Howellian executive chef.” He waved his hand toward the serving tables. “Everything you see here is just a taste of our hotel menu. We pride ourselves on serving the best, whether at the hotel restaurant or in your home.”

  He lowered his voice so only Sarah could hear him. “Speaking of serving, would you please get me a tonic water with a twist of lime?”

  Sarah nodded and went to the bar for his drink. When she returned with it, he took it without breaking stride on advertising the Howellian to take the time to thank her. Disgusted, she went to the serving table and joined Emily in consolidating some of the trays. The crowd had thinned to the point they wouldn’t be putting out any additional food.

  She looked around the room to see who was left and was surprised to see Marcus had returned and was engaged in a discussion with Anne Hightower and George Rogers. Curious, she picked up a small tray of desserts, walked over to them, and stood silently waiting for a break in their conversation to offer them the goodies.

  Up close, she could tell from his red cheeks that Marcus was exasperated but trying to hold it in.

  “I appreciate that you feel all the permits and other minor technicalities for the pub should be resolved in the next few days, but when will the council hear the issue of my other restaurant? I know it was on last week’s agenda, so why delay addressing it?”

  Anne patted her hair. “I know it’s important to you, Marcus, but the council has so much pressing business, including appointing a replacement to serve out Lance’s term, that I don’t see how it will come up for a vote for quite some time.”

  “But why?”

  “Well, there’s been a request for a feasibility study. If that’s the case, you can’t imagine how much work will have to go into studying it for compliance and the environmental impact on Wheaton of what you’re proposing. If I were you, I’d put my energy into the pub and your catering business.”

  Mr. Rogers leaned on his new cane. “Looks like instead of spinning your wheels about a restaurant in the big house, you’d be far better off concentrating on that pub and your catering right away.” He gestured with his free arm encompassing the room. “After today’s shindig, I’d be worried about the Howellian cutting into your business.”

  “But this food is Southwind style. In fact, it’s been made by Emily, my co-owner.”

  Mr. Rogers put his hand on Marcus’s shoulder. “Son, I know you’re not a fool. Look around here, this reception and my nephew running his mouth over there are what people are going to remember. Take what you can get for now and get your name back out there.”

  Sarah was afraid of what might come out of Marcus’s mouth next. So far, he hadn’t said anything that could be used against him, but she knew how he could blow his stack. She stuck her tray of desserts into their little discussion circle. “Would anyone like a dessert treat? There’s mini red velvet, banana nut, and carrot cake.”

  Mr. Rogers took a mini red velvet off the tray. He popped it into his mouth. “Delicious.”

  Sarah handed him a napkin.

  “Thank you.” Mr. Rogers inspected her tray and selected a carrot cake this time. She could tell from the smile on his face that he enjoyed this cupcake, too.

  “Which one did you like best?”

  “It was a tie.” He reached for a banana nut treat. “I guess I’ll just have to try all three to see if any of them are losers.”

  After he took his third treat, Sarah offered the tray to everyone agai
n. This time Mr. Rogers declined, as did Marcus.

  Anne glanced at her watch and declared, “Look at the time. I really must get going. Hopefully, I’ll see all of you at Tuesday’s council meeting. Thanks to your YipYeow meeting, I think we’ve identified some good candidates for appointment to Lance’s slot.”

  Watching Anne’s retreating back, Sarah held her tray out again toward Marcus and Mr. Rogers as she tried to think who in the room Anne might consider a good candidate.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

  Saturday morning was beautiful. The kind of day warm enough to go coatless, cold enough not to have to worry about becoming overheated. As Sarah went through her morning routine of brushing her teeth and dressing, she kept up a running chatter with RahRah, who comfortably snuggled into his already warm spot on Sarah’s blanket.

  “RahRah, do you think I should give Cliff a present? He wouldn’t take money, except for the materials, for fixing my fence.”

  RahRah purred.

  “I have a nice bottle of wine chilling in the refrigerator, but I don’t want to be suggestive. I also could, on my way to the shelter, bring him a few of Emily’s breakfast loaves. Aren’t you going to tell me what to do?”

  Although RahRah twitched his tail, he didn’t give her a definitive answer. She pleaded again, and this time he jumped off the bed and sauntered to the kitchen. She followed. He stood in front of the refrigerator and nudged the freezer side with his nose.

  Sarah opened the refrigerator door of her side by side and reached for the wine but stopped when RahRah placed his paw on the inner doorframe. “Are you trying to tell me something?”

  RahRah stepped back and again rubbed his head against the freezer door.

  “Sorry. I misunderstood you. Apparently, you think the wine will give the wrong impression here, too.” She took three small loaves out of the freezer and put them on the table. From her “don’t throw away anything you might someday need” closet, she pulled a gift bag and tissue paper still in perfect condition for recycling. After examining the tag and realizing it was addressed to her, she pulled it off before she dropped the banana, spinach, and chocolate-chip loaves into the bag’s bottom and carefully arranged the colorful tissue paper. Sarah held the bag up to show RahRah. “Perfect, don’t you think?”

  She laughed as he left the kitchen and started for parts of the house unknown. She quickly retrieved him.

  With RahRah fed and tucked away in the kitchen, the breads on the front seat beside her, and the windows down, she was on her way to the bluff. She took a deep breath of the clear air and savored the moment.

  At the turnoff for the bluff, she realized a graded dirt road had replaced the rutted access way people previously used. She was glad to see the road’s path veered away from the edge of the bluff. In the distance, Sarah saw a log cabin set back far enough to allow a view of the bluff, but out of range of spoiling the area jutting out over the water. When Cliff talked about building on the bluff, she’d feared his construction would have destroyed her favorite scenic hangout spot. It hadn’t, because he obviously took great pains to adapt the placement of his home to the land’s natural beauty.

  Slowing to take in the view as the road curved, she smiled. Maybe she was more like RahRah than she thought. RahRah’s great joy was sunning himself in his spot in the kitchen. Until last year, her sanity moments came when she stretched out in the sun on the bluff.

  Knowing she couldn’t stay in the turn of the road forever, she gave the car some gas and drove up to Cliff’s log cabin. It wasn’t large, but, from the few amenities, including the wraparound porch, she could tell this cabin, like its positioning, was a labor of love.

  As she parked, Cliff walked down the steps to her car. He was quite a bit more kempt than the day she first saw him in the bank. His hair was combed, beard trimmed, and his washed-out blue jeans and red-plaid flannel shirt fit her original Paul Bunyan with surfer-coloring impression of him.

  She was surprised to see a book in his hand. From her conversations with Harlan and Jacob, she had the impression the outdoors and construction suited Cliff but reading and writing were things he avoided.

  She glanced at the cloudless blue sky as she reached across the seat for the present she’d brought. “I’m on my way to town, but I wanted to thank you again for fixing my fence.”

  She handed Cliff the wrapped loaves of breakfast bread.

  “Thank you. You shouldn’t have.”

  “But I wanted to.”

  Pleasantries exchanged, they awkwardly stared at each other.

  Sarah broke the ice first. “What are you reading?”

  “A book.”

  She laughed and pointed at the book in his hand. “That much I figured out. Which one is it?”

  Cliff blushed. “Tom Sawyer. I wasn’t much of a reader in my younger days. Now, up here, I sit on my porch and read for hours. I’m trying to catch up on the classics I missed along the way.”

  He held the book so she could see its spine. She recognized the decorative leaf motif surrounding the book’s title. “Emily and I had a series of books with that same styling when we were children. I think they were weekly giveaways or only a dollar or so at the grocery when we were kids. They’re still sitting on a shelf at my mom’s house.”

  “Our mothers must have shopped at the same supermarket, because that’s where these came from, too. They were boxed up after she passed and left at Uncle George’s house. We’ve been helping him go through some of his stuff recently. When Tom and I opened this box of books, he didn’t want them, but I couldn’t bring myself to give them away until I read them.”

  When he stopped speaking as if lost in his thoughts, Sarah jumped into the silent gap. “If your mom was like mine, I bet she read them to you before you could read them for yourself.”

  “She did, but enough of that. Do you have time to see the cabin or take a short spin on the river?”

  Sarah consulted her dashboard clock and did some quick mental calculations. “I’m on dog-walking duty at the shelter in an hour, so I really only have time for the Cook’s tour.”

  “Great.”

  He opened the car door for her. Once she was out, he slammed it shut and led her up the steps to his porch. Two rockers, a swing hung by chains, and a table graced the porch. The interesting thing to her was the different textures in the hewn-wood pieces. She wasn’t familiar with any store that sold rockers or swings finished in this manner. “Did you make these?”

  “Yes. Bit by bit. I have a shop set up in a shed out back, plus I had access to a makeshift workshop while we were working on the hotel. At night, I took out my frustrations by building furniture for the cabin.”

  “Did you make things other than the rockers and swing?”

  “A few things.”

  “Like what?”

  “My dining table with its benches and a frame with built-in shelving for my bed.”

  “That sounds interesting. I can’t wait to see your bedroom.” Now, it was Sarah’s turn to be embarrassed. “I didn’t mean that the way it came out.”

  “Are you sure?” Cliff smiled.

  Sarah face was flaming hot, and she was probably blushing like her mother and sister often did, but she had to admit he was worth blushing about. She turned away from him and focused her gaze on the end of the bluff. The view from his porch, and probably from the picture window cut into the front of his house, was magnificent. He’d positioned the two to allow one to take in the land rolling down toward the water perfectly. From where she stood on the porch, she could see that even the curve in the road was planned to make sure the view wasn’t intruded upon. Without thinking, she blurted out her hope no one ever built a house between his porch and the bluff.

  “They won’t while I own the property. To me, the bluff is sacred. It’s why I bought this land.”

  “I understand. For years, I thought of this as my secret place. I found it exploring on my bike when I was a kid. Until you bought it, there were never people up
here.” She paused and reflected a moment before sharing a little more of herself with him. “This is where I came when I wanted to think or simply get away.”

  “Feel free to use it anytime you want. I’m rarely home, and the bluff is always there.”

  “Thank you. There might come a time when I take you up on your offer.”

  The smile vanished from his face, replaced by a look of concern that she appreciated. “Something going on?”

  “No. Thanks for asking, though.”

  Cliff turned his head toward the bluff. “Sometimes, even when things are going well, it’s nice to have a safe spot. I think that’s why I bought this land immediately. There was something calming and restorative about this view and the water.”

  Sarah nodded in agreement.

  “When I’m here, if I’m not woodworking or reading, the water is my getaway. I’ve already been out once today and left the boat tied at the dock to go out again. Tell you what, my cabin will keep. You told me your time today is limited because of needing to be at the shelter, so why don’t we take a short spin. It’s beautiful today. What do you say?”

  She glanced through the window into his cabin and back at the water. There was no question it was beautiful. “I’m game. Lead the way.”

  He immediately took off toward the point of the bluff. As they neared the area where she normally perched and looked out at the water, she saw a path cleared on the wooded side of the bluff. Railroad ties and gravel created natural-looking steps and landings. She followed Cliff down the path to a boathouse and dock. Its strategic placement in the trees blocked it from being seen from the top of the bluff.