by Eve Calder
“Are you hungry? Sam just baked up some cheddar biscuits and I’ve got some lemonade in the fridge.”
“I could eat,” he admitted.
“I’ll bring everything out to the porch. Just give me a minute to wash up.”
* * *
“So what’s eating you?” Manny asked, grabbing a biscuit from the basket, breaking off half, and placing it in front of John Quincy. The beagle sniffed the offering, then scarfed it down in one bite. He looked up at Manny and wagged his tail.
The P.I. put the other half of the biscuit in front of him.
“What makes you think something’s wrong?” Kate asked.
“When my Margot starts scrubbing things like that, it means she’s angry. Usually at me.”
Kate sighed. “I’m afraid we might have figured out who the skeleton is. And he’s family of a friend.”
“Aw, geez. I’m sorry.”
Kate shook her head. “So how are the cameras in Maxi’s yard working? No more prowlers?”
“Yes and no. Cameras are great. Your friend Carl did a first-rate job, even if he is a putz. I’ve been keeping tabs on the yard at night from the hotel. You know, the part of this island with working Wi-Fi and cell phones.”
“Not to mention room service.”
“Hey, one of the perks of the job. And when you’re up all night watching live feeds in black and white, anything that keeps you awake is a plus. This lemonade is good. Lately, I been drinking coffee by the gallon.”
Kate smiled.
“Had a band of would-be treasure hunters last night. Your friend Buchanan is gonna break the news to his wife. Cops have the guys down at the jail now. Same deal as before. Trio of twentysomethings read about it on the Internet. Figured it was an easy score. So they jumped in their truck with a couple of shovels and a dream. Definitely not criminal masterminds. I don’t think they’re killers, either. Anyway, that covers my nights. During the day, I’ve been taking a closer look at that yard crew your friend hired.”
“The ones who laid the sod?”
Manny nodded.
“When do you sleep?”
“Late afternoons, early evenings. Right now, my body clock’s all messed up. Comes with the job. Good news is, I think we can cross them off the list. Company’s a family outfit, and they’re all squeaky clean. Only staff they added back in February was a son who joined the crew for two weeks when he was home for college break. And that wasn’t ’til almost March.”
“So we’re back to it being someone from Coral Cay.”
Manny nodded. He took another biscuit, broke it, and put half in front of John Quincy. “This is your last one.”
The beagle looked up at Manny with liquid eyes, as his tail beat a staccato rhythm.
“Hey, I know they’re good. But we can’t have you getting a paunch.”
The P.I. shook his head and grinned. “He’s like me that way. Can’t say no to the good chow. Anyway, as far as your friend’s yard is concerned, I’m recommending we hire a couple of security guards. Low profile, no uniforms, ’cause that just feeds the conspiracy nuts. They think we have something ‘to guard,’” the P.I. said, using air quotes. “Basically, you just want someone camped out in the backyard at night to call the cops the minute these idiots show up. We do that a couple a’ times, word gets out, and they stop coming. ’Cause the easy score ain’t so easy.”
Kate smiled. “You make it sound so simple.”
“Hey, it ain’t rocket science. If it was, I wouldn’t be in this business.”
Chapter 46
While Sam manned the store, Kate finished her plans for the pirate treasure cake. Getting the shape would require multiple cakes and a little bit of engineering. And the icing work would be intricate.
Once the chocolate sponge cakes were cooling on the racks, she double-checked her sketches and set about mixing up a luscious buttercream frosting.
When she looked up, Ben Abrams was standing in the doorway. “Mind if I come in?” he asked, removing his hat.
“Of course,” Kate said, smiling. “Coffee’s on the counter, if you like.”
“Didn’t see Oliver out front,” Ben said, pouring himself a mug. “You know where he might be?”
“Probably over at Maxi’s. He’s been spending a lot of time there recently. Why? Is everything all right?”
“That’s a good place for him right now. I guess you heard about the treasure hunters over there last night?”
Kate nodded, as she put some extra muscle into mixing the icing.
“I thought you bakers used the electric appliances,” Ben said.
“We do. Every day. But sometimes hand mixing gives me a better feel for the consistency. And for this cake, that’s going to be really important.”
Ben nodded.
“So why were you asking about Oliver?”
“I was hoping I might borrow him for a little while. I’ve noticed he has a calming effect on people. I wouldn’t mind having you and Maxi on hand, either.”
“On hand for what?” Kate asked, puzzled.
“I’m afraid I need to have a little chat with Amos about Teddy,” Ben said. “And I thought it might help the guy to have a couple of friendly faces in the room.”
Chapter 47
As Ben, Oliver, Maxi, and Kate trooped through the doorway of Amos Tully’s market, Maxi shivered.
“I’m not so sure about this,” the florist said. “I want to help, but what can I do?”
“This is Ben’s show,” Kate said softly. “Well, Ben and Oliver. We’re just here for moral support.”
“Next time I decide to start a side business, please stop me. You hear about those bobos who tried to jump the fence last night?”
Kate nodded.
“Okeydokey, I’ll let you know when that special cleanser comes in,” Amos said, as he handed a woman her change. “Between you and me, it’ll get anything out.”
As the customer left the store, Ben stepped forward. “Amos, need to have a quick word. Can we go into the back?
Oliver, Kate noticed, had been glued to Ben’s side. It was almost like the pup knew that he’d been commandeered. And he knew who was leading the mission.
Amos Tully’s back room wasn’t elegantly furnished like the Kims’, but it was neat and tidy. In one corner were a couple of cozy chairs and two low tables—the second one supporting a small old-fashioned box-style TV.
Ben gestured for Amos to sit, and took the chair opposite. Kate and Maxi leaned against the walls, while Oliver planted himself at the grocer’s feet.
Almost instinctively, Amos reached out and stroked the pup’s head. The grocer looked over at Ben and blinked a couple of times. “So what’s all this about?” he finally said.
“When’s the last time you heard from Teddy?” the detective asked gently.
“Why does everyone keep asking about Teddy? I told you before, he went home.”
“No, Amos, he didn’t. Do you know where he is right now?”
Amos shook his head. “Nothing strange about that. The boy’s off doing his own thing.”
Ben nodded. “When’s the last time you actually saw him? In person.”
“When he left town,” Amos said. “Why?”
“I just need to know where he is right now. To rule out a few things. I wouldn’t ask if it weren’t important.”
“He’s off on a job. A good opportunity, too. But I can’t talk about it.”
“What kind of opportunity?” Ben asked.
“Can’t say,” Amos said, clamping his mouth shut, while rhythmically petting the soft hair on Oliver’s back.
“OK, do you remember the date he left Coral Cay? The exact date?”
Kate exchanged a look with Maxi. She was amazed at the detective’s patience.
Amos nodded. “February fourteenth. He came home from that big wingding at Harp and Caroline’s place and grabbed his stuff. I called him a taxi.”
“Where was he going?” Ben asked quietly.
; Amos shrugged, looking away. But he continued patting Oliver’s silky flank.
“Amos, I need to know. I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t.”
“Bus station in Hibiscus Springs. He was catching a bus to Orlando.”
“What’s in Orlando? Why was he going there?”
Amos turned his full attention to Oliver, refusing to meet Ben’s eyes.
“OK, let’s go another route. On his way out of town, could he have stopped somewhere? To see someone?”
Kate remembered the library photo. Teddy in a musketeer costume.
Amos shook his head. “Cab was late. ’Cause the driver got lost. Teddy had to get going. He was afraid he’d miss his bus.”
“What was he wearing when he left?” Kate asked softly.
Amos looked genuinely perplexed. “Same thing he always wore,” he snapped. “Jeans and a sweatshirt. Had some kinda raincoat, too.”
She remembered the look on Teddy’s face in the photo. Embarrassment. Something clicked.
Kate looked over at Ben, a question in her eyes. He nodded.
“Teddy wasn’t at the party as a guest, was he?”
Amos shook his head tersely. “’Course not. He was parking cars.”
“So the costume was whose idea?” she asked.
“Caroline insisted,” Amos said. “All of ’em had to wear costumes. The boy hated it. But that was the job. And he’d agreed.”
“When did Caroline ask for help?” Kate pressed.
“Two nights before the party. Calls me and says they need one more kid to park cars. Wants to know if Teddy would help. A hundred, plus whatever he made in tips. Teddy was always looking to pick up extra cash. He said sure.”
Ben rubbed his chin. “Amos, I’m worried that skeleton from the backyard of the flower shop could be Teddy.”
Amos looked shocked. “That’s why you’re all here?”
Ben nodded gravely.
Amos’s face relaxed. “It’s not him.”
“I know,” Ben said. “That’s not what I want, either, but I have to check out every possibility. Since that night, his phone’s been off, he hasn’t been using social media, and he hasn’t touched his bank account.”
“No,” Amos said emphatically. “I’m not spouting some touchy-feely claptrap. I mean it’s not him.”
The grocer closed his eyes tight, opened them, and seemed to reach some sort of decision. He stood suddenly and stepped over to an old battered metal filing cabinet next to his chair. Opening the top drawer, he pulled out a file, and handed it off to the detective.
“He was going to the Orlando airport. Flight to Atlanta, then on to San Francisco. From there, he caught a plane to Australia.”
Ben opened the file and read the document on top. He flipped the pages. “This is some kind of employment contract.”
Amos nodded. “And a non-disclosure agreement, too. Ironclad. All nice and legal. That’s why I’m not supposed to yak about it. Teddy signed it that night. Before he left. Asked me to keep a copy for him. It’s for one of those big reality TV shows. Teddy’s not your skeleton. Teddy’s a contestant on Insanity Island.”
Chapter 48
During the afternoon lull, Sam took a break to run errands. And Kate returned to her anniversary cake. As she picked up the icing bag, the phone rang.
“The Cookie House, this is Kate.”
“This is Emily Nelson with The Caullet Group. I’m calling for Kate McGuire.”
Celebrity chef and restaurateur Jean-Marie Caullet ran a string of upscale dining spots in New York, Boston, and Provincetown. In an era when a lot of establishments were struggling to keep seats filled and doors open, his places boasted six-month waiting lists. The man had become a synonym for culinary success.
“This is Kate McGuire,” she said. “What can I do for you?”
“Well, you can come to work for us.”
“Excuse me?”
“Chef Caullet has an opening in his Williamsburg eatery. Ambrosia. He needs a pastry chef. He wants you.”
“I’m sorry,” Kate said. “I think there must be some mistake. I didn’t apply for a job. I mean, I did, but that was at a different restaurant in his group. And it was a couple of years ago.”
“Chef Caullet is a big believer in the right person for the right job,” Emily said brightly. “Sometimes he keeps a résumé on file for years before he hires someone for a spot. But he recently sampled your desserts at … let’s see”—she paused—“Soleil. Back in March. Now that he has an opening for a pastry chef, he’d like to offer you the position. Are you interested?”
Kate looked around the bakery. Sunshine flooded the sparkling kitchen, which smelled of chocolate, candied pecans, and fresh-baked bread. The chocolate treasure chest, awaiting its frosting makeover, was ready to go on the counter. And she could just make out the edge of Oliver’s purple Frisbee under the kitchen table.
“Please convey my thanks to Chef Caullet for the wonderful opportunity,” Kate said, taken aback by just how much she had changed her life in a few short months. “But I’ve taken another position. I’m now a partner in a bakery in Coral Cay, Florida. And I love it here.”
Chapter 49
Andy Levy came through the door of the Cookie House and skidded to a stop. The place was packed.
Kate looked up and recognized the panic in his eyes.
“Hang on a sec,” she said to Minette Ivers. “What’s up, Andy?”
“Any chance you have some more of those tarts? You’d really be saving my life.”
“Sure, how many do you need?”
“A half dozen would do it for now. But a dozen would be great.”
“I just took a batch out of the oven, so if you need a few more…” Kate started.
“Two dozen.”
“No problem. You want to wait in the kitchen? You can grab some coffee, and I’ll be right in.” To Minette she said, “Now, I’ve wrapped the focaccia in wax paper. So it will stay nice and fresh until Carl puts it on the grill. And I threw in a few of those icebox cookies you liked.”
“I have to hide those,” Minette said, giggling. “Otherwise, they’re going to disappear like the last batch. Carl swore he didn’t know where they went. But he had chocolate on his breath when he said it.”
Ten minutes later, she’d finally cleared the shop. Unfortunately, she’d also cleared most of the contents of the cases, too. They’d need another batch of oatmeal cookies, pronto. Along with some icebox cookies. They were perilously low on peanut butter chocolate chip. And the only sandies she had left were in the box she’d earmarked for Harp—his prize for winning the cookie of the day contest.
When she walked into the kitchen, Andy was sitting at the table, sipping coffee and conversing with Oliver, who seemed to be listening intently.
“So that’s when I said, ‘What the heck.’ And now look at us.”
“If he ever answers you back, let me know,” Kate said.
“I know, right?” Andy said, reaching out to ruffle Oliver’s hair. “He’d make a great shrink. Thanks again for the tarts. We have a Brownie troop in there now. Late lunch. Twelve nine-year-old girls. Bridget says a dozen girls that age can never agree on anything. Well, she’s wrong. They all wanted key lime tarts. And we only have six left.”
“Pastry emergency.”
“You know it,” he said, checking his wrist. “Oops, that’s the Fitbit.”
He quickly consulted the other arm. “At this rate, I’ll make it back just in time for dessert. A dozen different lunches. ‘Hold this, skip that, can I have this on the side?’ And all of them ordered exactly the same dessert. How does that even happen?”
“Hot new trend?” Kate suggested lightly.
“On fleek, definitely,” Andy said, taking two large bakery boxes from her hands. “Thanks again,” he called, as he went through the door. “And you too, Oliver!”
Kate walked back into the shop to take a quick inventory. Oliver followed her. As she walked around the cases, noting what t
hey’d need and jotting it down, he dogged her every step.
“Woof.” A soft bark. Just to get her attention.
The shop bell rang.
Kate looked up. Harp.
On the bright side, he wasn’t carrying a bouquet. Decked out in a starched white Oxford cloth shirt, chinos with sharp creases, and leather loafers, the wine shop owner seemed upbeat and relaxed.
She quickly put on her game face. “You may have already heard, but you won the cookie of the day contest. Your prize is a dozen praline sandies. And from what our customers are telling me, they’re pretty good. We’re actually sold out—your box is the last one in the shop.”
“Then it’s fortunate I happened by,” he said, smiling. “I haven’t had sandies in ages. Since my mother used to bake them. A little taste of home. Oh my, you weren’t kidding about being sold out. You’re like poor Mother Hubbard—the cupboards are nearly bare.”
“I’m just restocking now,” she admitted. “I’ve got some of Sam’s sourdough in the back. And the sourdough rolls are pretty popular too.”
“Sourdough would be lovely, and you don’t have to slice it. And that focaccia looks wonderful—I could use one of those. So how comes the progress with Mr. Bones? I heard the local gendarmerie caught a trio of scamps last night?”
“Scamps, yes. But they’re probably not responsible for the skeleton.”
“Do the police have any idea as to his identity?” Harp asked.
Kate wasn’t about to share what Ben told her and Maxi in confidence. Besides, they really didn’t know who Alvin was. Not yet.
“Not in the slightest,” she said. “Was there anyone you remember who was here in town in February? Someone who just sort of vanished?”
“That would describe every tourist who comes into my shop,” Harp said casually. “They all vanish.”
“Hey, do you remember Amos’s nephew, Teddy?” she asked.
“Not really,” Harp said. “I think I saw him around Coral Cay a few times. Shaggy gent, from what I recall.”