JAM, JELLY, and JUST DESSERTS: A Ravenwood Cove Mystery (book 10)
By Carolyn L. Dean
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JAM, JELLY, and JUST DESSERTS: A Ravenwood Cove Mystery (book 10) is copyright 2018 by Carolyn L. Dean. All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the author or publisher, except for the use of brief quotations in critical articles or reviews.
Dedication
For those who have taught me what love really is. What a beautiful gift you have given me! Also, for the WCM group, because you inspire me every day.
Table of Contents
Dedication
Table of Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
ABOUT THE AUTHOR – Carolyn L. Dean
Other Ravenwood Cove Books
Chapter 1
“Well, well. Looks like spring’s popping out all over,” Mrs. Granger observed dryly as she stopped knitting and watched the very-pregnant Columbia walk into Petrie’s Hardware store, a shopping basket crooked over one arm. Her belly had definitely blossomed in the last few weeks, shown off in all its glory in a new yellow maternity dress. Sitting with Amanda on the wooden benches at the back of the store, Mrs. Granger deliberately had a perfect view of who was coming and going, and could eavesdrop at will, all while she pretended to be just making mittens and enjoying the warmth of the cast iron woodstove.
Amanda tried not to roll her eyes at her companion’s comment. She knew Mrs. Granger had been curious about Columbia’s advancing pregnancy, especially how the young woman felt about the fact her previous business partner, Ruben Bishop, who was probably the father, was dead. To her credit, Columbia had done her best to manage after he’d gone. She’d kept her little tea shop running, and it was slowly earning a steady stream of happy patrons who loved the delicious tea cakes and to sample the wide variety of exotic teas she offered. Between the tasty food and the charming, old-world atmosphere, with its lace curtains and floral décor, it was a cheerful and welcoming place in Ravenwood Cove.
To tell the truth, Amanda had been a bit worried about what some of the older ladies might think of Columbia’s pregnancy, since Columbia wasn’t married. “I think we should throw her a baby shower,” she said firmly, and was instantly surprised by the happy smile that spread over her ninety-year-old friend’s face.
“Absolutely! What a great idea,” Mrs. Granger exclaimed, with a gleeful wriggle and a clap of her hands. “I wondered when you were going to think of that. My little house is too small to host it, you see, and I thought maybe we could have it at the Inn.” Her grin was positively smug. “We could do a spring tea theme, maybe, and have those little jam-filled cookies Jennifer makes. The raspberry ones, with shortbread. They’re my favorite.”
Amanda looked surprised. Leaning forward on the padded wooden bench, her voice dropped to a whisper. “I thought you wouldn’t want to… I mean…” she started to say, but Mrs. Granger gave a short bark of laughter, then quickly glanced over at Columbia to be sure the pregnant woman couldn’t overhear her.
“Oh, honey. Didn’t I tell you that Hubert and I had a shotgun wedding?” She sighed in happy remembrance. “It was beautiful, even if my daddy was ready to strangle my husband-to-be.” She giggled. “You’ve never seen a groom so nervous. I thought he was gonna pass out cold before he got to say ‘I do’. Sweatin’ buckets.”
Laughing, Amanda picked up the shopping bag she’d set on the floor when she’d sat down to say hello to her old friend. “No, Gram, you didn’t tell me about that,” she said, using the affectionate nickname Mrs. Granger had asked her to use when she’d adopted her as an honorary granddaughter. “It’s news to me.”
Mrs. Granger shrugged, a small smile still on her face. “Some things never change,” she said. “We all have things happen we don’t expect. Women have to support each other when times are tough. That young lady needs all the help she can get. Besides,” she added, “babies are always supposed to be welcomed as good news, and we should celebrate that, don’t we?”
“Yes, we should,” Amanda agreed. “but I’m not so sure Columbia will want a baby shower with a tea party theme, since she owns a tea shop and works at it all day. She might be kind of sick of it, don’t you think?”
“Oh, that’s probably right,” Mrs. Granger said absently, as she tucked her knitting into her battered black purse. Her attention was elsewhere. She was looking toward the front of the store and apparently eavesdropping on Sage. The lanky teenager was asking the clerk at the cashier counter about grease remover. Mrs. Granger narrowed her eyes. “Hey, did you hear that boy got himself into trouble again? I’d been wanting him to come over and dig out my flower beds for me this week, but now he’s gone and borrowed Hortense Sandford’s Cadillac, and then he crashed it! Ran it into the light pole right in front of Petunia’s florist shop. Can you believe it? He was supposed to be fixing that car, not smashing it to pieces. It’s a miracle no one died.” She gave a huff of irritation. “Who knows how long it will be before the city replaces that light pole? Could be weeks.”
Mrs. Granger was bristling with indignation, but Amanda tried to gently shush the old lady so any nearby customers wouldn’t hear. “Gram, it was an accident. From what I heard, he had to swerve to keep from hitting Bev Watson’s little dog, Pippa. She’d run away from Bev and was right in the road. You know how tiny that Yorkie is. To tell the truth, I’m amazed he was able to stop in time.”
Mrs. Granger folded her arms, obviously not impressed by Amanda’s explanation. “Well, Bev should have had better sense than to carry a little dog around town in that big carry-all of hers. She’s a pet, not something to be kept in a purse. It’s a miracle Pippa didn’t escape and get run down by someone before this.”
Amanda got up and pulled Mrs. Granger’s wheeled walker toward her, but the old lady didn’t budge. She was looking toward the nearby window, watching something outside. “Well! I never…" Her voice trailed off in dismay, and Amanda stopped in surprise at the tone in Mrs. Granger’s voice.
"What did you say?" Amanda asked, and the reply was not what she expected.
"I can't believe he's come back to Ravenwood Cove. That man has some nerve to show up here." There was a note of absolute fury in Mrs. Granger's words, and Amanda quickly looked up to see why her old friend was so angry. She followed Mrs. Granger's gaze, looking across the street. Strolling down the sidewalk was a heavy-set, middle-aged man with a bushy mustache. He wore a full-blown three-piece suit and fedora, and was smiling broadly at every person he passed, even politely tipping his hat to a pair of ladies as he walked by.
"Why? Who is that, Gram?" Amanda asked, shoulder to shoulder with her adopted grandmother as they watched the large man stroll by the window.
"Buster. It's Buster Radcliffe. He's back." Her voice was a low hiss.
That didn't clarify anything for
Amanda. "Who’s Buster Radcliffe?"
The old lady gave a deep sigh and reached for the handle of her walker, pulling herself upright with a grunt of effort. "The worst slimeball Ravenwood Cove ever had." She shifted her ancient black purse onto one of the handles of the walker and made a face of disgust. "Huge scam artist. He’s hated by a lot of the people around here who are old enough to remember what he did. For some of us, it seems like yesterday." She seemed to hesitate for just a moment. "Let's wait until he goes past. I don't want to bump into him and have to give him a piece of my mind. I haven’t had nearly enough caffeine today to be that energetic."
That was a first. Mrs. Granger was known to be fearless when it came to expressing her opinions. More than once she’d happily told Amanda that at her age she had nothing to lose. The fact she was worried about confronting Radcliffe was a surprise, and Amanda gently laid her hand on Mrs. Granger's arm.
"Are you okay?" she asked quietly, and the old lady looked down, then finally nodded.
"You know, I try to be a good Christian and pray for everyone, even my enemies, but I have to admit that Radcliffe is one guy who makes that commandment really hard." She gave a heavy sigh. "He's lucky I'm not into voodoo dolls and really big hatpins, that's all I'm saying. He’d never walk straight again. I’d put a major hitch in his giddy-up"
The thought of the ninety-year-old lady stabbing a voodoo doll to get revenge almost made Amanda chuckle, but she hid it as they walked toward the front of the store. To her dismay, the front door opened just as they passed the main checkout counter, and a familiar-looking fedora strolled in.
Radcliffe was smiling as he opened the door, but the moment he saw Mrs. Granger his expression turned to one of surprise, then sour disdain.
“Katherine," he greeted her, his voice formal and cold.
She fixed him with a withering gaze. "Butthead."
Amanda's mouth dropped open. She’d never heard Mrs. Granger say anything so rude, and she instinctively took a protective step closer to her. If the stranger was going to make any sort of angry move toward her friend, he was going to have to go through her first.
Mrs. Granger gave a smile that was all teeth and no humor. "Actually, I'm shocked to see you here, Radcliffe. I would've thought you'd be in prison somewhere, shining the warden's shoes and cheating your fellow inmates out of their cigarettes."
Amanda could see the fat man swelling with indignation, and as he opened his mouth in retort, Amanda grabbed Mrs. Granger's arm and quickly led her away. To her surprise, the old lady permitted it. She only paused for a moment as she walked past him, sticking her tongue out at Radcliffe and blowing an especially wet raspberry at him, to his apparent horror. Grinning in triumph, she let Amanda open the door for her and they walked out of Petrie's and onto the street.
Amanda turned around and bent down until she was eye-to-eye with the diminutive lady.
"Oh, my word! What was all that about?" Amanda asked, and Mrs. Granger gave an indifferent shrug.
"He deserved everything he got. You know, he's lucky I'm not a few decades younger because I would've clocked him one. BAM!" she illustrated, smacking a clenched fist into her other hand. Noticing Amanda's patient silence, she tilted her head up and peered at her over her reading glasses.
"Okay, fine. You buy me a slice of Heinrich's best pepperoni pizza and I'll spill all the beans about Radcliffe. With extra cheese. Deal?"
Amanda laughed, knowing she was being bribed so the old lady could get her lunch paid for, but happy to pay the price. "Deal," she agreed, and guided Mrs. Granger toward her car. Heinrich's Pizzeria was far enough away that it would've tired the elderly Mrs. Granger out terribly to walk the distance, but Amanda was used to helping her friend in and out of her car when they were downtown together. Just before she shut the passenger car door for Mrs. Granger, the old lady made one last addition to their agreement.
"And a beer. After dealing with that sea slug, I think I deserve some beer with my pizza."
***
Heinrich's may not have been fancy, but it was still one of Amanda's favorite places to eat in Ravenwood Cove. The owner was proud of his German heritage, and it certainly didn’t stop him from making the best pizza Amanda had ever eaten. Just walking in the door was a feast for the senses, with the heady aromas of baking dough in the brick wood-fired oven, roasting garlic, and cooking meats and cheeses. Once the food was ready it was destined to be placed in front of the happy guests with a characteristic flourish of pride by the waiters. It didn’t take long before the two women were sitting in their favorite booth and had a steaming pizza placed in front of them, sliced and ready to devour.
As Amanda dished up hot pieces for both of them, she couldn’t help but ask her companion about their encounter.
“Okay, so what’s the deal with this guy, Radcliffe?”
Mrs. Granger crossed her arms, as if she were ready to start an argument.
“Oh, he’s a real piece of work. Probably the most hated man in the entire history of Ravenwood Cove. To tell the truth, I think he must be crazy to show up here again without a bodyguard.”
Amanda expertly flipped the last string of gooey cheese onto Mrs. Granger’s plate and slid the slice of pizza in front of her, along with a fork and knife. She was used to Mrs. Granger’s habits, and knew she insisted on eating pizza with cutlery.
“So, why don’t people like him?” Amanda asked, digging out a slice for herself.
"Well, Radcliffe owns the Sweet-n-Tastee company. You know, the one that sells all those jams and jellies and has the catchy jingle on their commercials?" Mrs. Granger flipped her napkin open and set it on her lap. "Owned the whole thing, him and his wife, Doris. Last thing I heard, a couple of years back, he was thinking of selling the company off after his wife died, but I'm not sure if he actually did that or not."
"You mean, Sweet-n-Tastee, that huge company? " Amanda sat back in the booth, surprised. "I've had their jam before, and it’s okay. It's full of weird sugars so I don't eat it anymore. Isn't there a road sign for Sweet-n-Tastee on the way to Likely?”
Mrs. Granger nodded as she cut into her piece of pizza, watching to be sure the cheese didn't slide off. "That's the one. It’s in front of the first cannery they had. All those big berry fields around there belong to Radcliffe, and that's how he got his company started. After a while, he didn't have enough land that he'd stolen here. He started buying up properties from other farmers if they wouldn’t just sell him their fruit for a song." She looked over the top of her glasses at Amanda. "Let's just say that the Sweet-n-Tastee Jam Company is owned by a greedy jerk who squeezed everyone dry. He did it as hard as he could, just so he could be Scrooge McDuck and sit on his big, fat bags of cash.” She pressed her lips together in distaste. “He’s definitely on Santa’s naughty list.”
Amanda pulled her plate toward her and carefully picked up the still-hot slice of pizza. “Well, it still doesn’t answer why he’s back in town,” she said, and Mrs. Granger swallowed her food and made a sound of absolute disgust.
“If I know Radcliffe, I’d bet good money he’s here to do something really underhanded and sneaky.” She sighed.
“Some things never change.”
Chapter 2
"Room number six is leaking around the window again," Jennifer pronounced darkly as she set her plastic cleaning caddy down on the Ravenwood Inn’s spotless kitchen floor. "There’s water all down the sill. I mopped up what I could, but I’m worried it’s going to affect the plaster in the wall. Didn't you call Roy Greeley to see if he could come out and try to fix that thing?"
Amanda looked up from her laptop and made a face of frustration. "Really? I thought that leak was fixed. Okay, I'll try calling him again but I'm not having much luck getting in touch with him these days. He says he's really busy and hasn't had time to stop by and look at the list of things I need to have done on the Inn." She glanced at her computer screen. "We’ve had a lot of new reservations lately, and I really need this place to be up
to snuff. I can't afford to have a room not available because it's got some sort of problem." The thought of turning down someone or having to call a guest and say their reservation had been canceled made Amanda's stomach hurt.
Washing her hands at the big farmhouse sink, Jennifer nodded in understanding. "Well, it may be true he's busy, but you've given him lots of business in the past. Seems like the least he could do is swing by and give us his opinion about the leak. Is it something James could fix, maybe?"
Amanda reached across the marble kitchen island for her coffee, forgotten and cooling because she'd been preoccupied with getting through all the emails and reservation requests. She took a quick sip. "He's really busy with a case today, but I'll text him and tell him what's going on. I guess one of the detectives in the sheriff's office is on family leave for a few weeks, so James is picking up some of the slack."
The truth was, she was missing him terribly. It wasn't a big surprise that a county-level detective of his experience and caliber was very busy. She’d known that when she married James, but sometimes the odd hours and things she'd had to deal with by herself wore on her patience a bit. Amanda was completely capable of running the Inn, but she had to admit it was nice to have someone else to bounce ideas off, or who could help out when needed. She respected his job as a detective and how much he was able to help people, but those facts weren’t very comforting sometimes when she missed her husband being around more often. Taking another slow sip of her nearly tepid coffee, she watched as her sole employee tied a clean, white apron around her waist and pulled out a large container of flour. “Did you see the mail came already today?” Amanda asked. “We got two more of those mystery letters."
"The ones with no address?" Jennifer said as she set the container on the counter with a grunt of effort. Pulling out a glass measuring cup, she dug it into the soft flour, sending up a small poof of powdery dust. "I know the mailman said that around here the town name and zip code was enough to get the letters to the right post office, but it still seems kinda weird. The only other address on the envelopes was to 'bed and breakfast' and they automatically got delivered here. I mean, who addresses a letter like that?”
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