Crêpe Expectations

by Sarah Fox

“But we don’t know that she disappeared from Wildwood Cove,” Brett said.

  “We don’t know that she didn’t.”

  I knew I was still missing something. “Where else would she have disappeared from if she was last seen here in Wildwood Cove?”

  “No one knew she was missing until several weeks had passed,” Lisa explained.

  Chloe picked up the story. “She was planning to leave the next morning to head for New York City. She’d been telling everyone for months how she was going to be a model in New York after finishing high school. Everyone assumed she’d gone on her way.”

  Brett snagged a piece of chicken with his chopsticks. “She didn’t have any brothers or sisters. Her mom had moved to Arizona, so Demetra was living on her own for several months. It was only when her mom hadn’t heard from her for a while and couldn’t get in touch with her that she got worried and raised the alarm.”

  “Even then, most of us figured she was in New York and too caught up in her new life to keep in touch with anyone,” Chloe said. “She always made it clear she thought she was better than the rest of us.”

  The sharp edge to Chloe’s last words surprised me.

  “But to not even keep in touch with her mom…” I said.

  Lisa reached for her glass of water. “That’s why the police finally looked into it, but no trace of her was ever found. She still had clothes and other belongings at the house her mom owned here in town, but everyone figured she wouldn’t have taken too much with her.”

  “She planned to hitchhike from here to Seattle,” Chloe said. “So she wouldn’t have wanted too much baggage. She was going to get a job in Seattle for a few weeks to earn the money she needed to get the rest of the way to New York.”

  “So one theory was that she’d hitchhiked with the wrong person,” Brett said. “But there was never any evidence of that, or anything else.”

  Chloe poked at her food with her chopsticks but didn’t seem interested in eating anymore.

  I reached over and squeezed her arm. “I’m sorry, Chloe. That must have been difficult for everyone who knew her.”

  Chloe nodded, her eyes fixed on her plate. “Maybe it’s not her.” She didn’t sound optimistic.

  I set down my chopsticks and pushed back my chair, wanting to dispel the somber mood that had fallen over us. “How about we get the movie started and eat dessert while we watch?”

  “Good idea.” Lisa stood up, and Chloe soon followed.

  We cleaned up the dishes and leftover food and settled on the couch with generous slices of double chocolate cake. Brett took a slice with him when he disappeared into the office at the front of the house so he could catch up on some invoicing for his business. Bentley followed at his heels, and Orion stayed in the family room with the rest of us.

  We’d picked a romantic comedy to watch that night, and I was glad for the lighthearted choice. It was nice to see Chloe smiling again, and Orion’s presence helped to get us all in good spirits. He spent the first half of the movie playing with Flapjack’s bouncy ball on the couch, scampering over our laps to get to the toy, then back the other way when one of us tossed it again. After about an hour of those antics, he settled on Lisa’s lap and fell fast asleep.

  Once the movie was over, I helped Lisa load her car with the cat supplies I was giving her, and then she set off for home with her new housemate. Chloe left as well after stopping by the office to say goodbye to her brother.

  As I locked the door behind her, Brett emerged from the office.

  “Done working for the night?” I asked.

  “Yep. Did you have fun watching the movie?”

  “We did. And I think it helped to cheer Chloe up.”

  “That’s good.” A dark cloud seemed to pass over his blue eyes.

  “Do you think the skull really could be Demetra’s?” I asked.

  “The place where she was last seen alive isn’t far from where we found it.”

  I took that as a yes. “Were she and Chloe close?”

  “No.” Brett ran a hand over the back of his neck. “Not at all. They didn’t get along.”

  That struck me as odd. “I’ve always thought Chloe was the type of person to get along with pretty much everyone.”

  “She is,” Brett said as we headed up the stairs to the second floor, Bentley charging ahead of us. “But Demetra was an exception. She had a mean streak, and Chloe was often one of her targets. When Chloe was in middle school, she came home crying more than once because of something Demetra had said or done. Things got a bit better in high school, but Demetra was still a thorn in her side at times. Still, if the skull is Demetra’s, Chloe will be upset. As much as she didn’t like Demetra, she never would have wanted her to come to any harm.”

  “I don’t doubt that for a second.”

  We reached our bedroom and found Flapjack on the bed. I spent a few minutes cuddling him, and it seemed he’d forgiven me for bringing Orion into his home.

  With my cat happy again, I got ready for bed, and as I brushed my teeth, I couldn’t shake the feeling that the skull was indeed Demetra’s.

  Chapter 5

  It wasn’t until the end of the week that word got out that an entire skeleton was found in the woods near the Wildwood Inn, and that it had officially been identified as the remains of Demetra Kozani. I heard the news from the first customers who arrived at The Flip Side that Saturday morning for an early breakfast. I texted Brett with the information right away, wondering if Chloe already knew. He wrote back to say she was probably still asleep. He was getting ready to leave for work but was going to stop by the house Chloe rented from him to make sure she heard the news from him rather than through the grapevine.

  All morning long, the diners at the pancake house talked about Demetra and speculated about how she’d ended up buried in the woods. It was clear that most people didn’t think it was an accident, no matter how much they would have liked to believe that scenario. I could tell many of the townsfolk were hoping that if someone had killed Demetra, the culprit was a random stranger passing through town. I supposed that was possible, if that person had been roaming the woods at night. Considering the location of the skeleton, though, I had to wonder if someone who attended the party knew more about the last moments of Demetra’s life than he or she had ever let on.

  Still, I tried not to get ahead of myself. The cause of death hadn’t been made public knowledge, and I was one of those people holding on to the hope that Demetra had somehow died accidentally. It was a very slim hope, though.

  Around noon, Brett and Chloe showed up at the pancake house for lunch. While Chloe sat down at a free table by the window, Brett joined me in the office.

  “Is Chloe all right?” I asked as soon as we were alone.

  “She’s a bit shaken up. That’s why I decided to take a long lunch break to spend some time with her. I didn’t want her sitting at home alone while she’s feeling down.”

  “Does she have any idea who might have wanted to kill Demetra?”

  “I don’t know. I didn’t want to ask her that, especially since we haven’t heard for certain that she was murdered.”

  “But you think she probably was,” I said, reading his expression.

  “It seems most likely.”

  “It does,” I agreed.

  Brett took my hand and gave it a gentle squeeze. “Join me and Chloe for lunch?”

  The pancake house wasn’t overly busy at the moment, so I agreed and sat with him and Chloe after I’d stopped by the kitchen. Soon I was digging in to a plate of French toast stuffed with blueberries and cream while Brett ate bacon cheddar waffles and Chloe tried the marzipan pancakes. We never minded eating breakfast foods for lunch, especially when Ivan was the one cooking.

  “It’s hard to be in low spirits when eating such good food,” Chloe said after she’d sampled her lunch.

/>   “So you’re feeling better?” I asked, hopeful.

  “A bit, yes. It’s just hard because if Demetra was murdered, I could know her killer. So many of my classmates were in the woods that night.” She frowned at her plate. “And my last words to Demetra weren’t exactly nice.”

  “She wasn’t exactly nice,” Brett pointed out. “Not that I like to speak ill of the dead, but she wasn’t known for her kindhearted nature.”

  “That’s true, but…” Chloe shook her head. “Never mind. Let’s talk about something else.”

  “Are you still going to participate in the cooking competition today?” I asked her.

  “Of course. It’ll be a good distraction.” She pointed a stern finger at her brother. “And don’t you bother saying anything.”

  Brett held up both hands as if in surrender. “I wasn’t going to.”

  “Yeah, right.” She sent him a withering glare as he fought to hide a grin.

  “What are you planning to make?” I asked, hoping to prevent any further feuding between the siblings.

  “Chicken Parmesan. I’ve got all the steps and ingredients memorized. That’s all I need, right?”

  “Should be,” I said.

  Brett was unsuccessfully fighting a grin again. When Chloe’s eyes narrowed, he mimed zipping his lips. Chloe shook her head, but I could tell she wasn’t truly mad.

  We chatted about other subjects as we finished up our meals, and I got back to work after they left the pancake house, Brett heading back to his own job and Chloe setting off to run some errands before attending the competition. Brett was hoping to finish work early enough to watch Chloe compete. He’d promised he’d be there to support her, not to make fun of her, and I knew that was the truth. He only ever took his brotherly teasing so far, and Chloe and I both knew he wanted her to do well in the competition.

  As planned, Ivan left The Flip Side shortly after closing. I helped Tommy in the kitchen for a while, and then we set off together to check out the cooking contest. Chloe wouldn’t be competing for a couple of hours yet since the teen division would go first, but I still wanted to be there from the beginning so I could cheer on my neighbor Logan Teeves.

  It only took a few minutes for us to walk to the grocery store on Main Street. A large tent had been set up in the parking lot, the two longest sides open to the air. There were several cooking stations beneath the canopy, and a long table with three chairs behind it sat on a raised platform. I figured that was where the judges would sit and watch the contestants as they worked.

  Out in the open air, bleachers had been set up for the spectators. People were already claiming seats, so I headed that way while Tommy stopped to talk to some friends. Sienna waved to me from the second row, and I climbed up to take the empty seat on her right. Sitting on her left was the girl with the corkscrew curls I’d seen registering for the competition the week before. Today her hair was pulled back into a long braid.

  “Hey, Marley,” Sienna said as I sat down next to her. “This is my friend Ellie Shaw. Ellie, this is Marley McKinney. She owns the pancake house.”

  “You’re competing today, aren’t you, Ellie?” I asked once we’d exchanged hellos.

  She nodded and bit her lower lip, not looking too excited at the prospect.

  Sienna patted her friend’s arm. “She’s a little nervous.”

  “A lot nervous,” Ellie corrected her.

  “You’ll do great.”

  “Try to enjoy yourself,” I said. “That’s the most important thing.”

  “My mom thinks winning is the most important thing.” Ellie stood up before Sienna or I could say anything in response to that. “I’d better go get ready.”

  “Good luck,” we called after her.

  She sent a nervous but grateful smile our way and headed for the tent.

  “I really hope she does well,” Sienna said.

  “How come her mom is so worried about winning?” I asked.

  “Partly because of the cash prize for the winner and partly because she thinks it will look good on Ellie’s résumé and college applications.”

  “Is Ellie planning to go to culinary school?”

  “I don’t think so, but I guess it’s another accomplishment to add to her list.”

  Down at the base of the bleachers, a balding man stepped up to a microphone. He tapped the mic and said, “Hello? Can everyone hear me?”

  A squeal of feedback had me wincing along with many of my fellow spectators.

  The man moved the microphone and its stand behind the large speaker before trying again. “Hello, everyone, and welcome to the Olympic Peninsula’s seventh annual amateur chef competition!”

  I clapped along with the rest of the audience.

  “For those of you who don’t already know, I’m Bruce Hannigan, though most people call me Coach Hannigan. I’m glad I have the chance to help out with this great event, and I’m happy to see so many people here to enjoy the competition.”

  He grinned at the growing crowd. “I’d like to thank this year’s sponsors and all the volunteers who have made this event possible.” He smiled at a woman with short, curly hair who was taking his photo. “Those volunteers include photographer Amy Strudwick, who has graciously given up her Saturday afternoon to document this event.” He gestured to the judges. “And of course our esteemed judges. Allow me to introduce Marielle Ryskamp of Marielle’s Bakery.”

  Marielle waved at the crowd from the judges’ table, her round cheeks pink as she smiled brightly.

  “And Quaid Hendrix, renowned food blogger,” the MC said next.

  A tall, muscular man wearing his brown hair in a short ponytail raised a hand to acknowledge the smattering of applause, but he didn’t so much as crack a smile. He appeared on the brink of boredom, and I wondered if he considered himself above the whole competition.

  “And last but not least,” Coach Hannigan continued, “Ivan Kaminski, chef at The Flip Side pancake house right here in Wildwood Cove.”

  Sienna and I applauded loudly, and even the rest of the crowd seemed more enthused by his introduction than Quaid’s.

  “Now I believe our first group of teen contestants is ready to get started, so let’s get cooking!”

  When the audience’s clapping had tapered off, Bruce Hannigan introduced the first round of teen competitors. Ellie and Logan were both in the first group of six contestants. As the teenagers took up their positions in front of their respective cooking stations, Coach Hannigan explained that they’d have thirty minutes to prepare their entrée. For this round, they’d been allowed to bring ingredients from home and to plan what they would cook.

  After making sure that all the contestants and judges were ready to begin, the MC stepped back from the microphone and blew a whistle while hitting a button to start a large digital clock counting down from thirty minutes. The time passed quickly, friends and family cheering on the competitors while Coach Hannigan read brief contestant bios from note cards.

  A couple of the teens in the tent appeared on the verge of panic, their moves rushed and frantic. Ellie seemed tense but in control, her expression focused and determined. She looked up from her work only a couple of times to check the clock.

  Logan didn’t seem quite as intense as Ellie, but he was still focused, and he moved about his station with more ease and confidence than I’d ever known the quiet teen to show.

  When time ran out, Coach Hannigan blew his whistle again and the competitors stepped back from their cooking stations. One by one, as the coach called their names, they carried their dishes up to the judging table where Marielle, Quaid, and Ivan each sampled the food before making notes on their clipboards.

  A second group of teens went through the thirty-minute challenge before Patricia Murray collected the score sheets from the judges and consulted with another woman I recognized from the competition
’s organizing committee. A few minutes later, Patricia handed a sheet of paper to Bruce Hannigan, who approached the microphone once again. He announced the names of the teenagers who’d made it through to the next round of competition.

  Sienna let out a loud cheer when Ellie’s name was announced, and another one when Logan was mentioned. I clapped along with the rest of the spectators, happy to see a relieved smile on Ellie’s face.

  Since there was going to be a short break before the first group of adults competed, I got up to stretch my legs while Sienna hopped down from the bleachers and rushed off to hug Ellie and Logan. I caught sight of Chloe near the edge of the tent and headed her way. She kept twirling a strand of her long blond hair around one finger, and nervousness shone clearly in her blue eyes.

  “All set?” I asked her.

  She nearly jumped at the sound of my voice. “Oh, hi, Marley.” She closed her eyes briefly. “What am I getting myself into?” She sounded like she was teetering on the verge of panic.

  “Relax,” I told her. “This is just for fun. There’s no reason to freak out.”

  “But I’ll make a fool of myself in front of everyone.”

  “No, you won’t.”

  “Maybe I should back out,” she said as if she hadn’t heard me.

  “Nonsense,” a gruff voice said from behind us.

  We both spun around, startled.

  Ivan glared at us. I couldn’t blame Chloe for shrinking back in the face of his intense gaze. I was tempted to do so myself, and I was used to Ivan’s daunting ways.

  “Don’t give up without a fight,” he counseled Chloe.

  “But I can’t cook,” she said, her voice little more than a whisper.

  “Nonsense,” Ivan said again.

  Before Chloe could come up with another response, Ivan strode away, skirting past a group of teens so he could get to the small table set up with coffee and tea for the judges and contestants.

  I put a hand on Chloe’s shoulder. “Ivan’s right. You should give it a try. What’s the worst that could happen?”

  “I could set the tent on fire.”