“If you say you’re sure it was Rachel, that’s a good place to start,” Marla suggested.
“She was at Sunset Village at the same time as me. She may have overheard Cap Diminsky and me discussing the Currier family. She delivered a stern warning to me to stay out of the family’s business. She left the facility before I did, giving her ample time to do the deed. The one percent of uncertainty I have that she wasn’t the slasher is enough to give me pause, though. Unless she left her business card on the hood of my car, I’m missing the smoking gun. And I’m sure she didn’t leave me one.”
“Didn’t Rachel ask you to find the killer? Are you saying she’s having you run circles around her to clear her name while, in reality, she’s the guilty party? Sherry, I think you’re in over your head this time.”
“I may just be, but now I’m in so deep there’s no turning back. What I learned today is that Cap and Lonnie aren’t the enemies we thought them to be. Quite the contrary. They celebrate anniversaries together. Lonnie had Cap write Ivy’s obit, giving Crosby no chance to. More friends than frenemies.”
“What is it between Lonnie and Crosby?” Marla asked. “Did you get that detail ironed out?”
“Every time I closed in on the topic, a wet blanket was thrown over the subject. I’ve broached the subject so many times, with so many people, I’m not sure where else to turn. By the way, with all this commotion going on, I almost forgot to ask what restaurant you guys picked. I need to text Don the address. He’s been window-shopping for the last hour, biding his time, I think.”
Marla turned to face Sherry from the front passenger seat. “We’ve talked so much about tropical cookie bars lately, I thought we should go to the Big Island. I want to see what the attraction is.”
“Poke bowls are all the rage for lunch,” Sherry said. “I’m not a raw fish eater, so I’ll pass on that. The fried rice is supposed to be fantastic. Will Ruth be joining us?”
“Ruth and Frances will meet us at the restaurant. The ladies wanted to say goodbye to Marla. Frances has been out of town, visiting her son for Thanksgiving. I haven’t seen her in over a week. Ruth is very out of sorts when her best friend isn’t by her side for days on end.”
Sherry smiled at her father’s observation. His women friends kept him young and entertained, and that was priceless.
Erno backed the car into a curbside parking spot. Everyone climbed out. “Who do we have here? Two lovely ladies in need of company.”
Ruth and Frances were seated on a bench outside the restaurant. Each was wrapped in a colorful scarf, a coat that hung down below their knees, and black gloves, giving each the appearance they shared the same fashion stylist.
“We would love the company of the Oliveri family.” Frances stood and embraced each member. “Thank you for including me in Marla’s farewell lunch.”
“You all are making it sound as if I’m never returning.” Marla laughed. “I have every intention of visiting more often. It’s good for me to reconnect with my roots.”
“Let’s get inside. I’m not as well dressed as these ladies, and it’s chilly out here.” Erno wrapped an arm around Ruth and guided her inside the Big Island.
Sherry noted the tropical-themed décor was colorful and bright. Predictably, the hostess was adorned in a lei and a grass skirt apron. She led the party to a large, round table with room for expansion.
After they were all seated, the hostess passed out menus. “Can I get you a pitcher of piña coladas to start you off?”
“That certainly would start me off to an afternoon nap,” Erno said. “No thanks.”
“Your waitress will be right over.” The hostess walked away.
“Is that Rachel?” Marla pointed across the room from behind the shield of her propped-up menu.
Sherry turned her head. She was stunned at the sight of the woman who might have slashed her tires only a few hours earlier. “Sure is. And that’s Chef Buckman with her.”
“Look over there. Don made it.” Erno tilted his head toward the door.
Chapter 19
A cross the spacious dining room, Don was chatting with the hostess. Sherry raised her hand and fluttered it in his direction. She couldn’t catch his eye, so she pushed back her chair, stood, and crossed the restaurant to the hostess stand. Leading Don back to the table, rather than avoiding Rachel and Barry’s table, she diverted Don as close by the duo as possible.
“Rachel. Barry. What a surprise to see you here,” Sherry said.
Rachel raised her eyes from her bowl of greens. “Hello again, Sherry. We must be on the same schedule.”
“Right.” Sherry forced a smile. She put out her hand in the direction of Don. “This is my friend Don Johnstone. He was driving the boat we were on the night we saw you both at the marina.” Sherry avoided eye contact with Don.
“Don Johnstone. Yes, hi,” Rachel said. “You’re the unfortunate person stuck in the middle of a divorce settlement. I assume you got word from Crosby’s lawyer concerning my boat?”
Don took a step forward. “Yes. I was sorry to lose out on the purchase of Crosby’s boat. It’s a beauty.”
“It’s all really too bad. At the time Crosby and Don made an agreement on the sale of the boat, there was no way to know what would happen to Don’s current boat soon after. Now he’s left with no boat at all,” Sherry added.
“What do you mean?” Barry spread some butter on a roll.
Sherry’s attention shifted from Barry to the roll before settling on Rachel. Hoping to detect any sign of Rachel already knowing what had happened to Don’s boat and, beyond that, having caused the damage, she held her gaze on the woman. If Rachel was holding the winning poker hand, she never let on.
“Don’s boat was sabotaged the night we saw you two at the Augustin Marina. We made it as far as dinner in Seaport. On the return trip, we started taking on water and had to be rescued by the Coast Guard. Further inspection of the boat revealed essential pump lines were cut. Cut by someone who knew exactly how to time the damage so we were pretty far from land before the boat took on dangerous amounts of water.”
Rachel and Barry exchanged looks.
“Which one of you two has an enemy?” Rachel’s coolness gave Sherry pause.
“I’m beginning to think I have an albatross around my neck because today, when I came out of Sunset Village, I was greeted by two slashed tires on my car. Vitis helped me change one tire and do a temp fix on the other. And when I say he helped me, I mean he did the whole job himself. Such a nice fellow.”
“Have you considered the possibility he’s the culprit? Sounds like Vitis was at both places where you ran into bad luck,” Rachel said with an air of casualness.
Barry turned to his dinner partner. “Weren’t you at the Village today, too? That would mean you were at both places Sherry’s run into bad luck, too.”
“Sherry and I aren’t enemies. We’re working together to find out who killed Crosby.”
“You are?” Don and Barry said simultaneously.
“Not exactly together. As a matter of fact, Rachel says she’s no longer interested in me finding Crosby’s killer. Isn’t that right?” The intensity of the glances exchanged between the two women gave Sherry the motivation to add a decisive nod. Her version of getting in the last word on the subject.
“You misunderstood me. I’m grateful for any information on Crosby’s killer. Letting long-retired skeletons out of the family closet is what I’d like to avoid.”
“Crosby was one of the better influences on my young life. He understood me. I’d like to find who killed Crosby so no one else gets hurt. I feel a sense of responsibility toward a man who aimed me in the right direction in high school. Despite the restrictions you’re putting on me, I’ll forge ahead. If I can’t get beyond the shallow surface of the Currier family, there’s not much chance I’ll get to the muck. Do you understand me, Rachel?”
Rachel dropped her fork with a clatter. “Yes, I understand.”
“We’v
e never been here before. Is there a dish either of you would recommend?” Sherry matched Rachel’s frosty tone.
“One of our favorite places to eat,” Barry said.
“I always get a poke bowl.” Rachel’s voice was barely audible. She kept her gaze down on her bowl of greens. “If you want to try something else, the special of the day never disappoints.”
“I go for the Kahlua Shredded Pork Buns. I recommend you try anything on the menu. Hawaiian cuisine is a bit of an unknown in Augustin, but I think you’ll be pleasantly surprised by how good it is,” Barry said. “Save room for the chocolate lava cake. Not Hawaiian, but delicious.”
“Cap mentioned the Curriers spent time in Hawaii.” Sherry kept her voice as steady as possible.
“Not all of us,” Rachel said. “I’ve never been.”
“Maybe your in-laws?” Sherry asked.
“Yes, they went there on their honeymoon. Ivy constantly talked about returning because the sailing was so challenging there, but Lonnie never took her back. She would have loved this restaurant.”
“You never told me that,” Barry said. “Maybe we should bring Lonnie here.”
“He would hate it.” Rachel’s tone put a period on the subject. “Enjoy your meal.” Rachel picked up her fork.
“Thank you.” Sherry backed away from their table.
On their way across the dining room, Don came to a halt. “What have you got up your sleeve, young lady? The way you talked to Rachel wasn’t like two people working together toward the same goal. Is there something you haven’t told me?”
By the time they reached the table, Sherry had filled Don in on the morning’s car mishap. They took their seats next to each other. Sherry noticed the others had their menus facedown in front of them, as if they’d made their meal selections. She scooped hers up and read the choices. She side-eyed Don and saw him set down his menu.
“Are you done already?” Sherry peered over the top of her menu.
“I’ve been to Hawaii. I know what the specialties are,” Don said. “I bet everything is tasty.”
“So, I didn’t have to ask Barry and Rachel what to order?” Sherry asked.
“You didn’t have to, but you were going to anyway. I wasn’t born yesterday.” Don smiled. “You were asking them because you, for some reason, needed to know whether they were connoisseurs of Hawaiian cuisine. Am I right?”
“I see amateur sleuthing in your future, Don,” Marla teased.
“I was asking their opinion because I’ve never been to the Big Island, the restaurant or the Hawaiian island, and I assume Barry eats all sorts of cuisines and knows what to order.”
“If you say so,” Don said.
“Okay, I’m all set. Ruth and Frances, are you set with your orders?” Sherry asked.
“Yes, dear,” Frances said.
“May I take your orders?” The waitress held a pen to a pad of paper.
“Guest of honor goes first,” Erno said.
Everyone turned to Marla.
“I’ll have the fish special of the day,” Marla said.
Each diner placed their order, and the waitress walked away with a pad full of tropical dishes.
“Don, did Sherry tell you about her latest run-in with someone trying to send her a nasty message?” Frances asked.
“I just told him the abbreviated version of the story. And speaking of sending a message, we ran into Rachel Currier and one of the other judges from the cookie bake-off, Chef Buckman, over there.” Sherry tilted her head in the direction of the table at which the two were seated. “Rachel was at the marina the night Don’s boat ran into trouble and she was at Sunset Village today when my car’s front tires were slashed.”
“Do you think Rachel was behind those warnings?” Ruth asked.
Before Sherry could respond, Don commented, “Wouldn’t make sense. She asks you for help, then she turns around and threatens you? She tells you to your face not to ask the family too many questions? And add to that, she sabotages my boat and slashes your tires?”
“Let me tell you something, Don,” Erno said. “When Sherry gets herself involved in one of these murder investigations, anything goes. Just keep your head down and hope for the best.”
“Dad, that’s not what’s happening. Rachel asked me to help find the killer to ensure she isn’t the one pegged for her ex-husband’s murder.”
“Why do you care about whether she is or isn’t the murderer, dear?” Ruth asked.
“Rachel’s afraid Crosby’s father, Lonnie, will have no one to care for him if she goes to jail. There isn’t any family left,” Sherry explained. “I would hate to see that happen. Crosby was a nice man and his father seems just as nice, only he has a rough exterior.”
“What if she’s guilty?” Marla asked. “From all indications, her hands aren’t clean.”
Don nodded in agreement.
“Then I’ve found the person who killed a teacher who did me a nice favor and gave me positive support when I was younger,” Sherry said. “Excuse me, I’m going to visit the ladies’ room.” She stood.
“I’ll join you,” Marla added.
Sherry avoided Rachel’s table in favor of crossing the path of the constantly opening and closing kitchen doors. On the return trip from the bathroom, rather than dance around the swinging door as she had been forced to do before, she edged close to a table with two diners appearing to be enjoying a shared appetizer plate.
“Hi, Patti. That looks delicious,” Sherry commented. “I thought Hawaiian cuisine was all fish all the time, but today I’m learning otherwise.”
Patti looked up from her plate of food. “It’s so fresh and delicious. We should all eat this way all the time, fish or otherwise. I’m reviewing the restaurant, so I have to keep my voice down.”
“As I’ve said before, you have the best job ever,” Sherry said.
“Hi, Patti,” Marla said. “It’s been a long time since I’ve seen you.”
“Sister love, how nice,” Patti said.
“There are more Oliveris over there.” Sherry pointed across the room.
“Are you all ignoring me on purpose?” Warren asked.
“I’m sorry, Warren. It’s very nice to see you. This is my sister, Marla. She’s on her way home tonight. We’re here for her farewell lunch. Are you keeping an eye on your newspaper’s intrepid restaurant reviewer?”
He cleared his throat and deepened his voice. “Yes, of course, this is a business lunch.” He winked in Sherry’s direction. “She was on her way here, so I hooked my wagon to her star to join her in a great meal.”
“That’s not true. Warren is taking all his employees out to lunch to thank us for putting up with upgrading the computer system and all the inconvenience that entailed. I happened to be going out today, so I think what’s really happening is I’m taking him out.” She gave Warren the stink eye, followed by a warm grin.
“Thank you for your article, Patti. I know it was written under tough office conditions. Not only did you write a wonderful bake-off recap, you went the extra mile and added insightful information on the Story For Glory’s first-ever cookie bake-off, held many years ago.”
“Did you?” Warren asked. “I’d like to read that. Sounds fascinating. My father was editor of the paper in those days. The bake-off was his idea, as a way to endear the newspaper to the community. The event was a big hit.”
“Why did it only run for one year if it was so popular?” Marla asked.
“That I don’t know.” Patti turned to face Warren. “Do you have any idea?”
“Let me think. What did my father tell me?” Warren paused. “I think it partially had to do with how much it takes to put on a cook-off. So much more than people understand. Look who I’m talking to. Of course Sherry would know that.”
“It’s true. There are many cook-offs that are one and done because of all the work that goes into organizing cooking competitions,” Sherry said. “You said that was part of the reason? Was there more to it?”
“The winner of the first cookie bake-off was Ivy Currier. Within a few months of the contest, the Augustin Marina was destroyed by a fire. Her husband, Lonnie, was the dockmaster, and there were whisperings that the fire was set by Crosby in an attempt to make his father pay for breaking up the Currier family. When a second bake-off was discussed, my father felt it was essential the previous year’s winner return to present the new one with the grand prize for the sake of continuity. Suddenly, drawing more attention to the Currier family didn’t seem like a good move. Any mention of Ivy in promotional material would be awkward. Rather than deal with any backlash, Dad just didn’t schedule a second bake-off. In the blink of an eye, twenty years went by.”
“What did you think when you saw Crosby had entered the contest?” Marla asked.
“Nothing at first. I didn’t know Crosby Banks and Crosby Currier were the same fellow. To be honest, Gina, my secretary, handled the logistics of the bake-off for the most part, and I only saw the finalized list of contestants when I took it home the night before. I had a suspicion Crosby Banks was related to the Currier family because my paper printed Ivy Banks Currier’s obituary months ago. Unusual he would drop the name Currier in favor of his mother’s maiden name, but odder things have occurred. When I saw him the day of the bake-off, I was sure he was a Currier. Strong family resemblance. Chef Buckman waited until he was sure Crosby’s recipe was nearly identical to Ivy Currier’s winning cookie bar recipe before telling me we couldn’t give him points, no matter how good his cookie might be.”
“Your paper published some rough articles about Crosby in the marina fire’s aftermath. Were you at all nervous to see him because of that?” Sherry asked. “I was none the wiser because I’m not much of a boater, and I’m kind of glad. That would have been on my mind while I was judging his cookie.”
Warren scoffed. “If I was nervous at facing everyone the paper had ever published a not-so-flattering piece about, I’d never leave my house. I can’t live that way. Maybe Crosby entering the bake-off was a way for him to come to terms with the past. The fact that he entered the same recipe as his mother’s winning cookie wasn’t lost on me.”
Double Chocolate Cookie Murder Page 17