Sugar and Vice

by Eve Calder

  Maxi slid the platter down the table directly in front of him.

  “We’re afraid it could be Amos’s nephew, Teddy,” Kate said.

  “Oh geez,” Ben said, putting down the cookie before it even reached his mouth. “Why do you think that? Is this something Stenkowski came up with?”

  “No, Manny had nothing to do with this,” Kate said. “We just happened to notice that Teddy left town about the same time you think that skeleton was probably buried. And Teddy Randolph was very active on social media. I mean, he literally has accounts and tons of followers on every platform you can think of—even some of the really obscure ones. But he hasn’t posted to any of them since February fourteenth. And Teddy used to work as a bouncer. That’s how he broke his nose. He didn’t have a car—at least, not recently. So he walked everywhere. And he had one of those big backpacks with a metal rack on the back that he used to haul around his stuff.”

  “The shoulder grooves,” Ben said, nodding. “What’s Amos say?”

  “Amos thinks Teddy just cleared off. But we’re afraid that something might have happened to him.”

  “Have you learned anything new about Alvin?” Maxi pleaded. “Anything that might mean he’s not Teddy?”

  “Alvin?”

  “Peter refers to the skeleton as Exhibit A,” Maxi explained. “Like part of a legal case. So I call him Alvin.”

  “I like that,” Ben said. “More personal. Truth is, I’m taking a second look at the missing guy from Boston. Had a nice chat with one of the detectives there. Money or not, it turns out the guy might be a closer match than we first thought.”

  “Can you tell us anything?” Kate asked.

  “The man who went missing was a trust fund baby. But it turns out he’s been living rough for a very long time. No need to go into the details. Suffice it to say, he also had a backpack.”

  “But I thought you said the timing was wrong. That no one reported him until a couple of months ago?” Kate asked.

  “April. That’s true. But the man who reported him missing wasn’t a friend or a family member. He never even met the guy. He just managed the family trust. They’d had an appointment, and when ol’ Joel didn’t show up, he felt like he had a fiduciary duty to file a report. Detective said that’s the exact phrase the money manager used. Fiduciary duty.”

  “So he could have easily gone missing a lot earlier,” Kate concluded.

  “Yup. Thing is, I called the money manager. He thinks the guy was finally getting his act together. And said he’d mentioned wanting to visit a sister in Florida. Manager’s new on the account. Didn’t know if she lives here or is vacationing here. But he’s going to look it up and get me a name and address. So now I’ve gone from having no possible leads on an ID to having two strong leads. And one of them’s from right here in Coral Cay.”

  Chapter 44

  Kate vowed that if she ever did cherry-pick the cookie contest winners, praline sandies would never make the cut. It wasn’t that the recipe came from Harper Duval. In fact, the idea of smoothing things over actually seemed like a good idea.

  No, it was more because praline sandies involved a lot of very intricate, labor-intensive steps. And, with almost every single one, a knife-edge in timing separated a perfect batch from disaster. Every family in New Orleans might have a recipe for pralines, just as Rosie had said, but Kate was willing to bet they only broke it out for very special occasions.

  Still, when she finished the first batch and tasted it, she felt a huge sense of accomplishment. And relief.

  The second bite was just as good. Decadent and delicious. And just enough salt in the cookie—and the candied pecan—to complement the caramel.

  Sam dubbed them “real good,” before taking two more off the plate and disappearing into the shop.

  High praise from a man who hadn’t even wanted cookies in his bakery.

  As she rolled batch number two into the big oven, it hit her that she didn’t have that much time to start planning her pirate treasure cake. And Maxi was right. A little reference material really would help.

  Time to hit the books.

  “Sam, I have to go over to the library for a little while. I need some pictures for that big cake I’m making for the resort party. You want anything?”

  “Give my best to Effie,” the baker said. “Wouldn’t hurt to take her some a’ those peanut butter cookies with the chocolate chips. She likes those.”

  “That’s a great idea—thanks. Oh, and the next batch of sandies will be up in about fifteen minutes.”

  “Yup. Got that. Ask Effie if they have any Westerns I haven’t read. Louis L’Amour and the like. She knows.”

  Kate emptied out her small backpack, and repacked it with a notebook, a couple of pens, and—of course—a box of peanut butter chocolate chip cookies. She zipped the sack, threw it over one shoulder, and looked around for Oliver. But the pup had vanished.

  When she sailed through the front door of the bakery, there he was. Sitting patiently on the front porch, the handle of his blue leash in his mouth.

  “Admit it, if I wasn’t here, you’d be totally fine walking yourself, wouldn’t you?”

  He looked quickly away, an innocent expression on his face. But the black eyes were full of mischief.

  As Kate and Oliver strolled down Main Street, he stopped to sniff various bushes. Some scents elicited an enthusiastic tail wag. Others, just a small wave. And with some, no reaction at all.

  As thin clouds trailed high in the turquoise sky, a warm breeze carried the tangy smell of salt—and the beach. Kate marveled at the profusion of colorful flowers, spilling out of the oversized planters that dotted the street.

  “Kate! Hullo!”

  She turned and saw Claire’s smiling face, waving from two stores down.

  “Claire, how’s it going?”

  “Marvelous, thank you. And you’re just the person I wanted to see. Well, you and this fuzzy little one,” she said, giving Oliver a chuff under the chin. “Sophie emailed those portrait photos. I printed them out, and I’m giving them to everyone in the book club. I’ve got the stack in the shop, if you want.”

  “I’d love it, thanks,” Kate said, as they all ducked into Wheels. “We were just heading over to the library.”

  “Well, tell Effie I said hullo. Oh, and tell her we got in that new basket for her bike. All right, check this out,” she said, handing Kate a sheet of paper. “Is he a handsome gentleman or what?”

  Even in a photo of a flat painting, Sir George Bly seemed to inhabit three dimensions. With a hand on the hilt of his sword, a smile on his lips, and a devilish glint in his eyes, he was poised to leap off the page and into the room.

  “You weren’t kidding,” Kate said, absorbing the dashing figure. “The ladies must have loved him.”

  “All but the one he was madly in love with. I haven’t found much yet. All I know is her name was Jayne. Jayne Bly, the Duchess of Marleigh, after she married his brother.”

  “Ouch, that had to hurt,” Kate said. “Wait a minute, there was a letter from Henry to his wife, Jayne. In the book of family correspondence you lent me.”

  Claire nodded. “I know. Sounds like they were a real love match. So while poor Sir George was out fighting to save the kingdom on the high seas, Henry wooed and wed the only woman his brother ever loved.”

  “I wonder if that had anything to do with the estrangement between them.”

  “I wondered the same thing,” Claire said. “But it was Henry who won the fair maiden. You wouldn’t think he’d be the one to hold a grudge.”

  “I know. And at the time of the letter, George was already dead and it sounded like Henry really missed him. I wonder what happened? Jayne married the stay-at-home brother who inherited the estate and the title. Could she have secretly carried a torch for the pirate bad boy?”

  Claire laughed. “I’m telling you, it’s a sixteenth-century soap opera. And it will pull you right in. Any new clues from your detective chappie?”
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  Kate startled. For a split second, she thought the bike shop owner meant Ben. And the mystery of Alvin’s real identity. Then she realized that Claire was talking about Manny and the search for Sir George Bly’s final resting place. Not to mention, his treasure.

  Kate shook her head. “Nothing yet. But right now, I think he’s just trying to take in the source material and learn the local terrain.”

  Not exactly a lie, she reasoned.

  Come to think of it, where was Manny? Kate hadn’t seen him in a couple of days. Though Maxi’s back garden had been mercifully quiet and prowler-free. She had a feeling that must have been Manny’s doing.

  A pair of tourists walked into the shop, sporting matching pink camp shirts, white Bermuda shorts, and blue fanny packs. “Is this where you rent a bike?” the man asked.

  “It certainly is,” Claire said with a bright smile.

  “Trike, Harold,” the wife said, testily. “I want one of those big three-wheeled trikes. Like the one Marsha has back home. With the flag on the back. I don’t want to fall over and crack something.”

  “We have an excellent selection of those,” Claire said. “Are you looking for something to ride down on the beach or more for around town?”

  Kate waved goodbye, and she and Oliver were out the door.

  * * *

  The Coral Cay library was built in the Old Florida style. A two-story white wooden structure with a tin roof, it looked like a large home. Set off by itself, the building was rimmed with lush red and pink hibiscus. The expansive rolling lawn even boasted a smattering of coconut palms. Beyond the manicured carpet of green, the land on either side was so wild it might as well have been jungle.

  Kate already knew from her neighbors that the long, wide front porch was a favorite spot to host library activities for children and adults alike. And, just as with almost every other business in Coral Cay, a dog bowl full of crystal clear water sat just outside the front door. This one was pink plastic.

  “OK, it looks like you’re welcome here, too,” Kate said to Oliver.

  The pup enjoyed a good long drink. Satiated, he licked his chops and walked right in the front door.

  Across the library, Kate saw movement. A pretty, petite African American woman of about sixty was fast-walking toward them.

  “Uh-oh,” Kate said under her breath to Oliver. “Is it possible that welcome only extends as far as the porch?”

  When the woman got within range, she bent over and reached out both hands. “Ol-i-ver,” she sang, beaming, as she stroked the fuzzy, wheat-colored flanks. “How’s my sweet puppy today?”

  Oliver scooted toward her and sat up a little straighter, basking in the attention.

  “You must be Kate,” the woman said, finally standing. “I’m Effie. Effie Parker.”

  Kate put out her hand. “Kate McGuire.”

  “Oh, I know your work,” she said, grinning. “Every time Sam comes over here lately, he somehow manages to smuggle me some cookies. Not that he’s bragging on you, or anything.”

  “Which reminds me,” Kate said, reaching into her satchel to retrieve the bakery box. “Sam sent these with his compliments.”

  “Isn’t that man a dear,” Effie said, taking the box. She flipped up the lid. “Oh, these are my favorites. Salty and sweet. A glass of milk, a few of these, and a good book? Heaven.

  “Now what brings you here today? Don’t tell me that you came all this way just to deliver these? Because, between you and me, I need the exercise,” she said patting a wide hip and smiling broadly. “You definitely don’t.”

  “I have a pastry research project,” Kate said. “I’m supposed to create an anniversary cake that looks like a pirate treasure.”

  “For the Pirate Festival?”

  “Not exactly. The couple who commissioned it honeymooned in Coral Cay. And they love the festival. This year they’re celebrating their anniversary with a theme party at one of the resorts. I’m getting the idea they want something big and splashy. And I’m looking for a few photos to give me some ideas.”

  “Oh, this will be fun. I have some beautiful reference books. We can make color copies of anything you want from those. And I also have some history books that you can check out and take with you.”

  Effie Parker’s hands flew when she spoke. Oliver watched, mesmerized, as the women chatted.

  “That sounds perfect,” Kate said, relieved. “Thank you. This library is beautiful. I’ve only been in town a few months, and I’m still getting settled. This is my first trip.”

  “We’ll get you all signed up for a library card, then. You’re from Manhattan, I understand?”

  “Yes, I am,” Kate said, surprised.

  “Ah, they have some wonderful libraries there. Some good book stores, too,” the librarian said with a wink.

  “They really do. Oh, and before I forget. Claire asked me to tell you that the basket for your bicycle arrived. And Sam wanted to know if you might have any Westerns that he hasn’t read?”

  Effie Parker smiled widely. “That is good news about the basket. And don’t worry. I’d never let you leave here without a couple of good Westerns. I swear, that man gobbles them down like peanuts.”

  * * *

  An hour later, armed with a stack of books and a folder full of color copies, Kate carefully packed up her sack. Oliver, who had been plied with treats, dozed at her feet.

  “These are for Sam,” Effie said, appearing with three spotless paperbacks. “Thought they’d be right up his alley, so I put them on hold for him. Is it true you’re working on the project to find Sir George Bly?”

  “Yes, but right now it’s just at the research stage. Do you have anything in the library that would give us some background on him or the Bly family?”

  “Actually, yes. We have some very old books in the permanent collection. Nothing contemporaneous, obviously. But a few things from the late 1800s and early 1900s that mention Gentleman George and some of the legends. I haven’t been through it all. Let me take a look and see what I can find that might be useful. It’s too bad Caroline’s not in town these days. She has quite a few books on the local pirate legends. Well, she loves books, period. She and her husband both.”

  “To be honest, I’m kind of more interested in Sir George’s personal story,” Kate confessed. “I think there might have been some kind of a love triangle between him and his brother, Henry, and the woman Henry later married. Jayne was her first name. Spelled with a ‘y.’”

  “Oh, you are hooked,” the librarian said, obviously delighted. “I’m just happy you’re more interested in the history than that mythical treasure. Although I do understand that the legend of Gentleman George’s hoard does bring people to our island.”

  “Actually, there’s something you might want to see,” Kate said, reaching for her backpack. She pulled out a file, opened it, and handed the top sheet of paper to Effie Parker. “This is Sir George Bly. It’s a portrait that hangs in Marleigh Hall. Claire had seen it when she was there once, and she asked a friend of hers to take a picture and send it to us.”

  Effie took the page carefully by the edges and studied it. “My, he’s quite the fellow, isn’t he? Very charismatic. You can see where he might be able to convince a band of men to climb into a tiny wooden ship and set off into the unknown.”

  “And this one is his brother, Henry,” Kate said, handing her the second page.

  The portrait depicted a middle-aged man, fashionably dressed in an opulently furnished private office, holding an open book carefully in both hands—as though the viewer had walked in and surprised him in his study.

  The librarian sighed, shaking her head.

  “At least he’s a reader,” Kate noted.

  “Yes, although at that time, books were incredibly expensive,” Effie said. “Owning them was a status symbol. So he might have just been showing off. Hmm. Very similar features. Older, of course. Not quite as hale and hearty, though. Not as lively.”

  “And yet Sir Georg
e died young, and Henry lived to be a hundred and one or a hundred and two.”

  Effie shook her head. “Well, I have to admit, now I really want to know a lot more about both of them. And the mysterious Miss Jayne with a ‘y.’”

  As Kate gathered the rest of her materials, she glanced over at the wall above the copier. Several large framed photos showed groups of people in elegant costumes.

  “Oh, that’s right, you weren’t here then,” Effie said, following as Kate walked over to the wall to get a closer look. “That was our last fundraiser. Harper and Caroline used to throw a huge party on Valentine’s Day. Those two spared no expense. And we were so grateful, believe you me. Those parties raised a lot of money for this library.”

  As she spoke, Kate was mesmerized by the colorful costumes. Apparently, the guests had gone all out, too. A man with a cowboy hat, chaps, and a lariat looked like he’d stepped off the MGM lot, circa 1950. His companion was dolled up as a PG version of a Las Vegas showgirl. Standing next to them, dressed as a flapper, was Sunny Eisenberg.

  In the center of another photo, Harper Duval had his arm around a tall, beautiful woman. Caroline was a flawless Marie Antoinette, right down to the beauty mark on her cheek—and Harp her unfortunate Louis XVI. They were flanked on either side by people Kate didn’t recognize—a saucy parlor maid and Sherlock Holmes. Standing at the very edge of the photo, almost out of the frame, was Teddy Randolph. He was dressed as a French Royal musketeer—complete with cuffed black leather boots fitted with shiny silver buckles.

  Chapter 45

  The next morning, before the shop opened, Kate grabbed the glass cleaner and wiped down the bakery cases and the countertops. Then she attacked the shop windows.

  “You know, if you scrub any harder, you’re gonna rub a hole in that glass.”

  Kate looked up. Manny Stenkowski was standing in the bakery shop. He was wearing a red Hawaiian shirt open over a white T-shirt, khaki board shorts, and his fishing hat.

  “Your partner let me in the back door. Can’t stay long. Got John Quincy outside. Wasn’t sure about bringing him in here. With the old guy and everything.”