by Maymee Bell
The employees took turns consoling Jane, either by talking to her, rubbing her back, or hugging her. Some did all three.
“Do me a favor and think back to when you worked here and how she was then. Her relationship with the kitchen staff. When you call me, you can tell me anything you can remember,” Carter said to me.
I looked up and caught an unexpected look of concern on his face.
“That was a long time ago, and the only volatile relationship I can remember from then was the one between me and Bitsy.” My forehead puckered.
“Your mother?” He cocked a brow. I nodded. “She’s one of the sweetest Rumford citizens I know.”
“You aren’t her daughter,” I joked, and looked down at my fingers. “Evelyn? Really?”
“You’d be surprised what a heated argument between two people can produce. Not just yelling and shoving, pushing around, but it can lead to murder.” His chest heaved up and down with the deep breaths.
“Yes, I can imagine.” My mind curled back to the fight between me and Noah. I could’ve killed him with my bare hands that day, I’d been so mad. “I just couldn’t do it and neither could Evelyn.”
Evelyn a killer?
“Everyone who had issues with Emile is a suspect at this time.” He shoved a cookie in his mouth. “These are great.” At least I think those were the words he muffled before he ate another one. “What are they?” He rotated the cookie in front of him.
“Red Velvet Crunchies.” My heart warmed as it always did when that happy face showed after someone took a bite of one of my creations. “It’s a twist on the standard chocolate chip cookie.”
“They aren’t flat like most homemade cookies.” He noticed the thickness of the cookie.
“That’s one of my baking secrets.” I winked as if I had some big baking secret, when in reality all pastry chefs knew that in order to make a nice, gooey cookie, you had to stack two rolled cookie dough balls on top of each other and bake them that way.
His eyes narrowed. There was a sly look on his face.
“I’ll give you a call.” I waved behind me as I walked out of the kitchen, very aware his eyes were on me.
Chapter Five
Sheriff ’s deputies and officials were hanging around the hallway and inside the ballroom, either talking to each other about how they couldn’t believe there’d been a murder in Rumford, speculating on who could’ve killed Emile, or on their cells talking about the murder. Evelyn’s name was on the lips of all of them. Poor Evelyn. They’d already arrested her, held court, and convicted her before Emile’s body was even cold.
The sheriff ’s department was busy and their radar wasn’t on me, so I weaved in and out of the crowd to take a shortcut out of the RCC to my car through the offices. It had been my usual way to sneak out when I’d worked here in high school so I could ditch out without having to stop and talk to Mama or her friends. I walked down a long, narrow hallway with office doors lining each side. At the far end was a door with an exit sign above it and my escape route to the employee parking lot. I couldn’t get out of there fast enough.
“But what am I going to do? I can’t just cancel all the supper reservations or close the place down. We have members on the golf course and tennis courts that will be here in a couple of hours to have lunch.” The familiar voice of Evelyn Moss spilled out into the dead silence of the hallway from the cracked office door that bore her name on a gold nameplate.
Heavens to Betsy, they couldn’t close the RCC—unless the sheriff ’s department wanted to have a riot on their hands. The RCC had never closed as far back as I could remember. We’d spent the better part of every week having dinner there, and that included our family holiday dinners. The members of the RCC had not only become good friends to us; they’d become family. Even Evelyn Moss.
“In the two hundred years the RCC has been open, we’ve never closed. We stayed open during the tornadoes in the late seventies. I know. I was here.” Evelyn wasn’t quivering in her stance of staying open. “Then there was the time the pipes in the kitchen burst because they were so old and rotted. We had to get a caterer to bring food in.” She lifted up a finger. “What about a couple of years ago when we did the big remodel?” She continued to list all sorts of reasons they didn’t close.
* * *
“Do you understand that I’ve not only got hundreds of reservations to fill, but I’m having the biggest wedding here in four days from today?” There was almost a scared tone in her voice now. “Did you hear me? Four, f-o-u-r days.” There was a pause. “No. I will not cancel the wedding.”
Cancel the wedding? Charlotte’s wedding?
Who on earth was she talking to? I leaned a little closer, trying to figure out the other half of her conversation.
* * *
Not that I was eavesdropping, of course. I was only looking out for my friend’s wedding.
I gulped. There was no way they could cancel Charlotte’s wedding. Talk about a hissy fit. I’d seen Charlotte Harrington get a burr in her saddle, and it wasn’t one bit pretty. When she hadn’t made the cheerleading team in high school, she’d flipped out and pointed to everyone who’d made it, making a comment on how their mama had paid for a spot on the team. After she’d scolded everyone in the gym, she’d taken off running out of the gym, through the fields, hopping fences, not stopping until she made it to her parents’ house clear on the other side of town. Mama had once told me that Charlotte had gotten her crazy from the Harrington side of the family.
No matter where she’d gotten it, she had it. And if they canceled her wedding, the crazy that family had shown wouldn’t hold a candle to what she’d do to the RCC or Evelyn Moss.
I had to do something. I looked through the crack of the door. Evelyn’s head was down. One hand held the receiver of the phone while her other rested on her forehead.
She wasn’t speaking, but I could hear the person on the other end of the phone line doing some fast talking.
“Get me a chef. Get me one now.” Evelyn’s powerful words echoed out the door before she slammed down the receiver of the phone.
I let out a deep sigh. As much as I wanted to slip past the door, Evelyn needed someone to vent to, and I really wanted to see how we could come to a solution without canceling Charlotte’s wedding. I straightened my shoulders, untucked my hair, and gave a light knock on the door.
“What?” Evelyn snapped, being her usual gruff self that I remembered.
For a second I hesitated. If I darted past the door, she wouldn’t know it was me.
“I’m waiting!” She asserted with a full voice.
“Hi, Evelyn.” I pushed the door open and looked around the room.
Boxes upon boxes were all over the place, along with files and binders. There wasn’t a clear path or space anywhere. I glanced back at the name on the door to make sure I hadn’t walked into the RCC storage room or Bitsy’s holiday shed.
“Who are you and what do you want?” she spat out.
My eyes followed my ears and noticed what had been Evelyn’s perfect bun perched on the top of her head was now messy and disheveled and popping out over the top of even more files stacked on her desk. From this fact alone, I knew she hadn’t killed Emile. She’d have left a messy trail if she had and, by the look of the scene and the chatter of the officers, the killer had done a pretty good job covering up any sort of evidence.
“Well?” She pushed her fingers into that messy updo that no southern woman in her right mind would have ever been caught dead with in public. At least not in Rumford. She tried to fix it, but it wasn’t happening. The more her fingers messed with it, the worse it fell.
She looked at me from squinted eyes as though she were trying to place me.
“I’m not sure if you remember me.” I put my hand in my purse and dug deep. Even though I thought I’d given Carter my last bag of cookies, I had to make sure.
I smiled when I found and pulled out what had to be the very last bag of Red Velvet Crunchies.
>
“I’d know those from anywhere.” Her sullen face changed into a smile. “Sophia Cummings.” She stood up. “You sure have turned into a fine young woman. How the hell are you?” she rambled, taking the bag from me and instantly popping a cookie into her mouth. She mumbled between chews. “Oh my gawd, I’ve missed these.”
I eased down onto a chair in front of her desk—the only chair that wasn’t full of boxes stacked on top of each other. There were Christmas lights hanging out of one box, Easter egg garlands draping out of another, and some Chinese lanterns sticking out of the top of a box in the corner.
“I’m sorry to hear about your chef,” I blurted out. I’d never been one to have enough couth to keep my mouth shut. “I hope you’re okay.”
“It’ll all be just fine. Finer than frog hair,” she assured me, lying through her teeth. “I’ve got several calls in to some wonderful chefs who have begged me to work here in the past.” She took another cookie from the bag. With each chew her face relaxed, releasing some of the stress.
She wasn’t convincing me.
“You know, crunchies do help with stress. I’m here baking Charlotte Harrington’s wedding cakes and I do know my way around the kitchen, so if you need someone to step in and cook for a little bit, I’m more than happy to help for the next few days.”
It was as if my mouth took over before my brain had a chance to catch up. My mind noodled the concept I’d just offered. I’d only said a few days because I was going back to Manhattan after Charlotte’s wedding. Surely I could spare a couple of days to help out.
* * *
“Poor Charlotte.” Evelyn took another bite. Her eyes faded off. Suddenly she snapped out of her stare. She smiled. “I’m not sure I’m going to be able to find someone to recreate the fancy French wedding menu she had her heart set on.” The smile faltered.
“What was he making?” I asked.
She looked around her desk, patted files, opened them, and finally gave up.
“I don’t know. The file is around here somewhere.” She picked up a couple more before she jerked her head in the air. “I know where I put it.”
She stood up and walked over to the bookshelf that was just as messy as the rest of the office and pulled out a file with Charlotte’s name on the tab.
“Monkfish, John Dory, Red Mullet.” Her nose curled more and more with each name she read. Quickly she shook her head and stuck her tongue out. “Yuck.”
She came back to the desk and sat down, eating another cookie.
“Seriously, I can help out.” My mouth did it again. It spoke without my permission. I could tell Evelyn was still stressed because I’d never seen her eat so many of my cookies in one sitting. “I’m more than happy to go in the kitchen right now and help with lunch and tonight’s reservations. I’m going to be here anyways working on Charlotte’s cake.”
Evelyn looked up at the clock on the wall. She looked back at me. It was already well into the late morning, and any minute the first round of golfers would be in the restaurant to get an afternoon cocktail and snack before they went out to finish the back nine holes. The first set of tennis lessons would be over and the women would soon be here to eat their daily salad and drink their fancy green juice. It’d be about the time the massage therapist placed orders for her clients who had booked the spa day that included lunch.
Evelyn Moss was in a pickle and I was her answer.
“I heard you worked in a fancy New York City restaurant.” She sucked in a deep breath. “I guess you know that it’s really hard to find a chef with the caliber the RCC club members require.”
“You mean Bitsy?” I knew Mama was hard to please and if her palate wasn’t happy, she wasn’t happy.
“I wasn’t going to name names.” She spoke with a weak and tremulous whisper. “But if that’s who’s in your mind, yes,” she said with quite an emphasis. “Are you sure Bitsy isn’t going to throw all kinds of holy hell if I take up your vacation time working?”
“Are you kidding?” I leaned back in the chair. “I’ve been so bored since I’ve been here, and plus it’d do me good to stay in the kitchen to keep my mind off…” I trailed off.
“Honey, I heard. You forget I walk around here where the club members think I’m invisible. Their mouths flap and gossip.” She shrugged. “I’m sorry about your boyfriend and that whole cheating thing.”
A smile curled up on the corner of my lip as I tried not to curse Bitsy’s name under my breath. Bitsy had probably meant no harm when she told people I was home, but she could’ve left out the “poor, pitiful Sophia ran home to Bitsy because she needed help mending her broken heart” story. I was positive she’d told all of her friends in all of her clubs.
“Don’t be. See, I can use a distraction,” I said.
“If you’re sure.” Evelyn’s eyes held a glint of wonder.
“I’m sure.” I eased up on the edge of the chair and stuck my hand out over the files on her desk.
“You’ve got a deal,” Evelyn said, gripping my hand. “You’re a lifesaver.” She winked. “Don’t tell anyone I’m a big old softie.”
“You know I won’t.” I smiled back at her and got up to leave. “You know I can’t cook for the wedding since I’ll be busy putting the finishing touches on the cake,” I made sure to remind her. “But I might be able to get a start on some of the appetizers Emile had planned for Charlotte’s wedding.”
“I’m going to have to meet with Charlotte about this if I can’t find someone to make those weird things she’s signed off on, but if you want to take a gander.” She offered me the file and I took it.
Evelyn stood up. She patted one of the stacks of papers in front of her. “I’ve got some good leads, but they just can’t get here today. I’m confident the chef I’ve contacted will be perfect for the wedding. I hope Charlotte won’t be disappointed.”
“I’m sure you’ve got it under control.” I felt as if I needed to give Evelyn a little boost of confidence.
From the conversation I’d overhead, Evelyn was trying not to alarm me, because she obviously didn’t have a backup.
“I’m going to head on down to the kitchen now.” I gave a slight wave.
On my way down the hall, I grabbed my cell phone out of my back pocket. Not that Mama was at home waiting on me. She’d known I was going to the RCC to meet Charlotte. If she’d heard about Emile, she’d be worrying I was in danger and calling her would put her mind to ease.
The answering machine picked up, and I left a quick message to let her know I was going to be at the RCC for a few hours, leaving out the part about me cooking. I could hear her now: “I let you work there serving my friends when you were in high school, but as an adult with an education?”
No matter how old I was, Mama had a way of guilt-tripping me. One of her specialties.
Chapter Six
The sheriff ’s department was finishing up their inspection of the crime scene by the time I made it back down to the kitchen. They’d taken down the crime scene tape and pretty much left behind a fine layer of dust from the fingerprint powder on everything. A couple of people were still hovered over Jane. They were exchanging stories of Emile that made them laugh and remember the good times with him. They tried to recreate his actual tone and voice as they told his stories.
From milling around the club, I knew the general public hadn’t yet heard the news about Emile, though it’d be all over town lickety-split. The click of golf shoes on the floor sounded in the distance, an automatic alarm for the staff that the golfers were on their way. Jane adjusted the apron around her waist and grabbed a couple of menus on her way out the door.
“I thought you were leaving?” Carter moseyed up to me with a smirk on his face.
“Didn’t you know that I’m not only going to be baking Charlotte’s wedding cake, I’m also going to be taking over the kitchen while Evelyn is in limbo finding another chef? But first I’ve got to clean up this mess you made.”
I reached up and grabbed
one of the RCC aprons off one of the hooks.
“This mess wouldn’t be here if there wasn’t a murder.” He stared at me, obviously amused. “But you can have your kitchen back.” He stepped aside and brushed his hand out in front of him. “Since you’re the new gal in charge, I suggest you watch your back.”
A momentary panic rushed through me. What on earth did he mean by that? “Just what are you implying?”
“I’m just saying that we don’t have anyone in custody and we haven’t figure out yet why someone would kill such a beloved member of the RCC.”
“Are you saying some people didn’t like Emile?” I was curious because the staff seemed to have had a lot of good stories as they traveled down memory lane a few minutes before, and they were so quick to point fingers at Evelyn.
“Right now everyone only has great things to say about the man. But over the course of the next couple of hours, even days, the truth will come out. Those are the clues to the motives and reasons for killing the guy.” Carter made a good point. “I’m figuring an inside job or at least someone Emile knew.”
“Inside job?” I gulped and took a good look at the staff. People I knew nothing about. Employees who were strangers, and I had no idea where their loyalties lay. None of them seemed to be staring back.
“There wasn’t any forced entry. The doors were locked, and we checked the member list database,” he said. “I’m just telling you to be careful, that’s all. I’d hate to see you get in the middle of anything on your visit home.” Before members could enter the club, there was an entry gate into the RCC grounds. Members had to swipe their membership card to gain entry. Their information went directly into the RCC’s database, and at any given moment, RCC security staff could tell who was on the property. Carter could’ve easily gotten his hands on the information.
* * *
“Jane’s timeline checked out with the coroner’s estimated time of death, which was two hours prior to the time she found him. Or maybe you and Charlotte,” he started, but I completely interrupted that thought. I could see where he was going.