Revenge Is Sweet

by Kaye George

  After careful consideration, and realizing she could get top dollar for her successful bakery business, she decided she wanted to sell vintage candy made from those precious recipes. She bought the place next to Yolanda’s, and moved in about a month ago. She opened her shop in mid-June. June was not peak season here, but not low season either, until the Fourth of July weekend, which was High Season. That was a big boost. She considered that she was giving her shop a chance to get onto its feet and establish itself as a fixture, a vintage candy shop, for the high volume fall-into-the-holidays season.

  She dragged herself through her front door and glanced at her grandmother’s clock. It read nine thirty, a lot later than her usual time to get home from work. She was relieved that Cole’s Volvo wasn’t there yet. Only her own powder-blue Chevy Sonic sat under the shelter of her carport at the end of her front driveway. She kicked off her shoes and sank into her navy-blue couch. When she flicked the TV on, she caught the middle of a drama that she didn’t usually watch. She clicked it off and heaved herself up to rummage in the kitchen for something resembling at least a light supper, since it was late for a big dinner.

  Tally had finished assembling a ham and Swiss sandwich with lettuce and tomato when she heard a car drive up. In seconds, Cole was knocking at the door. She kind of dreaded meeting someone new tonight. She was so exhausted from the events of the day, and the questioning had finished wearing her out. The detective had warned her that she might face more of that in the coming days, too.

  Taking a deep breath, she unlocked the door. Her handsome blond brother, Cole, stood there alone, carrying a case at his side. She peeked around him and squinted toward the car, up and down the street, but no one else was there. Unless he—or she—was hiding behind the big tree in her yard.

  “Where’s the person I’m supposed to meet? Coming later?”

  “No, he’s here now.” Cole grinned, showing both dimples as he hoisted high the vented carrier he held. “Meet Nigel.”

  Inside the carrier crouched the biggest cat Tally had ever seen. “Is it a mountain lion?”

  Cole chuckled. “No, he’s a Maine coon. They run large.”

  That was an understatement. The cat was in a dog carrier. A cat carrier wouldn’t have been able to contain him.

  “Can I let him out inside?” asked Cole. “He’s been cooped up for a long time.”

  “I guess.” Tally stopped gaping and stood aside for Cole and Nigel to enter. “Will he pee on the floor?”

  “You don’t know much about cats, do you?”

  “How would I? I’ve never had one. We didn’t have any pets growing up, so how do you know what to do with it?”

  “Him. He’s not an it.”

  “Well, excuuuse me. Him. So, will he pee on my floor?”

  “Wait here a sec.” Cole set the carrier down in the middle of the living room and ran back to his car. He returned with his battered suitcase and a few other items—a bag of kitty litter, a plastic litter box, and a grocery bag. After giving his sister a hug, he set up the litter box first, then drew out bowls and filled them with cat food and water.

  “Is this stuff going to stay in the middle of the floor?” Tally asked, entranced that the big tuxedo-colored cat went right to the litter box and used it, neatly scratching at the bottom of the box to bury the evidence before taking a few dainty steps to his food and digging in.

  “You’re right. I shouldn’t start him out where he’s not going to end up. Where should we put his box?”

  “The back porch?”

  Cole frowned. “Of course not! He’s an indoor cat. You can’t let him out.”

  “What made you decide to get a cat anyway? And such a big one?”

  Cole plopped onto the couch, and Nigel, finished with scarfing up his food, jumped into his lap to clean his paws. Cole gave a soft “Oof!” when Nigel landed.

  “I didn’t exactly decide,” he said. “It just happened.”

  Tally sat beside him and tentatively touched the top of the cat’s head. It was soft and silky. “Don’t tell me. A woman left him behind when you broke up with her.”

  “That’s basically it.”

  Cole went through women like, well, like this cat would probably go through cat food and kitty litter.

  “What did you say he is? Is he wild? Part cougar? Part mountain lion?”

  “All cats are part cougar and mountain lion, but no, he’s tame. Maine coon is a real breed.”

  “How often does that litter box have to be changed?” she asked. It didn’t look big enough for this monster cat, tame or not.

  “You should change it about twice a week, but you need to scoop every day.”

  Tally sat straight up. “Wait a minute. What’s this ‘you’ business?”

  “Right. I mean, generally, people need to do that.”

  The way Cole said it, though, Tally had an inkling that wasn’t what he meant at all—until she objected. Was he thinking of leaving this cat with her? A cat hardly fit Cole’s lifestyle, which kept him on the road for weeks at a time. Tally never knew if his love-’em-and-leave-’em habits were a result of his job as an itinerant sculptor or a result of his personality and his reluctance to stick to one woman. Maybe his inability to commit was a result of their nomadic upbringing. Tally sometimes worried she was a bit like her brother.

  “I have to tell you what’s going on here, Cole.”

  “What? Is something the matter? Why so serious?”

  “It is serious. I don’t know how to say this. It’s…” Tears started flowing, even though she was trying to hold them inside.

  “Sis. Tell me.” He put his arm around her shoulders.

  “A man was murdered in my shop today.” She felt the muscles in his forearm tense.

  “How did that happen?”

  She told him everything she could. About finding Gene’s body and about the police and the crime scene people coming, and about her trying to figure out how it could have happened. Her tears stopped as she related everything to him. She was glad he was here. He was comforting. When she finished telling him the entire story, they sat in silence for a few moments. Tally realized she was very tired.

  “I’m beat. I need to go to bed. Do you want to stay here, Cole? You can have the couch.” She didn’t have a guest bedroom, but could always make room for her brother.

  “That would be great, at least for a couple of nights. I have to be on the road in a few days. Heading to Albuquerque for work.”

  “I guess Nigel travels well? Albuquerque is a bit of a drive.”

  “Yeah, nine or ten hours. I’ll get my other suitcase.”

  He hadn’t answered her about the cat traveling to New Mexico. If the cat was going to travel to New Mexico. Would having a pet suit her own lifestyle? She didn’t think so.

  * * * *

  The next morning, the cat was crouched outside her bedroom door like a huge inanimate stuffed toy when Tally emerged after showering and dressing. Cole was fast asleep on the couch, snoring with his mouth open. Tally bent to pet Nigel, and the cat bumped his head into her hand, forcing her to scratch his ears. He started to purr like a buzzsaw. Tally had to admit she was impressed with him.

  “Nice kitty. Nice Nigel,” she crooned, trying to match his rumbling. “I have to leave for work, so you take care of Cole for me.”

  She ducked out the back door rather than the front, so as not to disturb Cole, whose snoring was louder than the cat’s purring.

  Kevin, the shopkeeper at Bear Mountain Vineyards, ran out as she walked past his store.

  “What’s going on over at your place?” he asked. “No one seems to know.”

  The authorities hadn’t told her not to say anything, so she could probably tell him. “A man was killed yesterday.”

  “Killed? Really?”

  “In my shop.”

 
Kevin was stunned into silence for a moment.

  “Yeah, killed in my shop,” Tally repeated.

  “Who is it? Who killed him?”

  “It’s Gene, the mayor’s son. He was doing some work for me. But I don’t know who killed him. I don’t think anyone does.”

  “Let me know if I can do anything.”

  She thanked Kevin and went on toward her place. A policeman was coming out the front door of her shop when she arrived.

  “Is it all right to go in?” she asked.

  “Sure. I’m taking the caution tape down now.” He held a strip of bright yellow that had been stretched across the front door to seal it. “Crime Scene got busy and processed everything yesterday and last night. You might want to have someone get in there and clean up, but the scene is released.”

  “What… what do you think happened? To Gene, I mean?” She closed her eyes so she wouldn’t see the memory of his body, but it didn’t work.

  “He was murdered.”

  “But how, and who did it?” Could they tell he’d been stabbed with scissors, she wondered, with a slight shiver of guilt for not mentioning Yolanda’s scissors.

  “Can’t say. Sorry. Not while it’s an ongoing investigation. Someone will be in contact later to take your statement.”

  “I talked to the police last night.”

  “They’ll need you to sign an official statement sometime today.”

  She watched him get into a squad car and drive away.

  Her shop felt foreign, changed, when she went inside. She stopped two steps inside the door, unable to take another step. But she had to. She had a business to run. The walls hadn’t changed color; they still swirled with pink and lilac. The glass candy case gleamed, standing on the sturdy wide-planked floor. The cute Mason jar light fixtures hung overhead, as usual. But everything was dimmed, diminished, and duller than she remembered, seen through a dark aura hanging in the air.

  She shook herself and marched into the kitchen to face the spot where Gene’s body had been. Giving a shudder, she left. She went to Yolanda’s and let herself in with her key to fetch her merchandise from Yolanda’s cooler.

  “Is…everything okay?” Yolanda asked as Tally sped by.

  “We need to talk, but I have to open right now.” Tally fled, but not before she saw Yolanda’s condition. Red nose and eyes, unkempt hair, and even an outfit that was, for her, awful—a tan skirt and a plain black top with no jewelry in sight.

  Tally was on her hands and knees scrubbing when Andrea came in.

  “Here, let me help you,” she said. “Did you see the television coverage last night?”

  Tally shook her head. “Was it awful?”

  “They didn’t say much, but it was mentioned.” Andrea got beside Tally on the floor with a brush and scrubbed at the bloodstain beside her. Andrea sniffled as she rubbed at the brown spots.

  Tally got up and handed her a few tissues, for which Andrea thanked her. Poor kid was taking Gene’s death hard. “You don’t have to do this. I can handle it.”

  “No,” Andrea said. “I’ll help. I want to. What a shock, Gene murdered right here.”

  Tally let out a breath and nodded. The soap and water had loosened the bandage on her finger, so she put more cream on it and a new bandage. It seemed to be healing awfully slowly, but it was a deep puncture. She had rammed her finger into the point of the scissors, after all.

  When the floor was clean, Tally stood and stretched. “We’d better get to work. I guess we can open for business. We might even get some gawkers. Might as well try to sell them something.”

  Andrea grinned at that. Over her tearfulness now, she didn’t seem too broken up over Gene’s death. But was her cheerfulness forced? Covering up some deep feelings for Gene?

  Mart came in ready to work and the three tried to act like it was a normal business day.

  That turned out to be difficult, but not in a bad way for Tally’s business. The place was swamped. Dozens of people surged in, milling around. At first, when she saw how much traffic they were getting, she was afraid that most of them would gawk and leave. And maybe most of them did. But a lot of them noticed her products and decided to try them out. Enough that it was a record sales day within a couple of hours.

  At about mid-morning, as Tally was getting ready to head to the kitchen for an overdue break in the cozy chair in her reading corner, Cole came through the front door. Mart brightened up when she saw him, and Tally thought Cole reciprocated.

  “I came to sample your wares, Sis.”

  “You and everyone else in town.” She introduced her brother to her employees and left them together with only slight misgivings. Since Cole would only be here for a few more days, she didn’t think that would give him enough time to break Mart’s heart. Would it?

  This was a situation Tally would have to keep close track of. She couldn’t have her brother’s adorable dimples plowing through her employees’ hearts.

  Chapter 5

  Tally was proven wrong almost immediately. When it was time for Mart’s lunch break, Cole came and picked her up, idling his Volvo at the curb as he ran in to fetch her.

  “Be back in a few,” Mart called as she dashed out the door.

  Tally drummed her fingers against her jeans, making skritching noises and wondering if this was something she should nip in the bud, for Mart’s sake. After all, Cole had been through six—or was it seven?—women in the last six months. As far as Tally could tell from long distance, each one had fallen hard for Cole. While the relationship was on, he professed to be head over heels with each one, but when it was over, he moved on and acquired a new girlfriend within a few days. Some he met through clients, some from online dating services, and some, Tally suspected, were his clients. Cole, she had to admit, even though he was her brother, was a lothario, a regular love-’em-and-leave-’em kind of guy. Whether or not this was another result of their itinerant upbringing, Tally had no idea. But she’d seen him in action often enough, from middle school on, to know it was his thing.

  He flirted with everyone, and when a cute female fell for him, which was often, he dove right in. Wined her and dined her. Dazzled some of them. That made them fall even harder. She remembered one girl in high school, and another in college, who both went into deep depressions when he’d had enough.

  Cole’s standard breakup method wasn’t nice. Tally had talked to him about that many times. He wouldn’t tell the woman directly that he was done with her. He would simply start dating someone else. Or move away, be off on his next road trip and not tell her good-bye.

  Yes, Tally would have to warn Mart about her brother. She’d done it before, for other women. Now she felt responsible, like she had to defend her employee, arm her for what was inevitably going to happen between them. Oh, how she sometimes wished a femme fatale would toy with him and show him how it felt.

  She was drawn out of her thoughts by the clamor of the door chimes and a fresh barrage of customers. Soon, she needed to retreat to the kitchen to make more goodies. After about an hour, Yolanda came in the back door. She looked only slightly better than she had earlier.

  Tally pasted on a bright smile and greeted her. “Beautiful day out! How are you?”

  Yolanda dragged herself to a stool at the prep island, plopped her elbows on the counter, and dropped her head onto her two fists.

  “Come on, smile,” Tally said. “It’ll make you feel better.” Tally finished combining the peanut butter and powdered sugar for Mary Janes, then pulled the hardened sugar and corn syrup mixture from the refrigerator and started spreading the mixture on the cooled candy base.

  “You think so? Do you know that the police came into my shop this morning? Two of them. They questioned me! Like they suspect me or something.”

  Tally gave her friend a sideways glance, wanting to come at the subject obliquely. “So you know ab
out…Gene?”

  “That he’s dead? Yes. The police told me that. But they seemed to be suspicious of me. Like I killed him or something. I’m not saying I didn’t want to, but how could I kill someone? I couldn’t do that.”

  Tally hugged her friend. “I know you couldn’t.” She stepped back to look at her, brushing off a stray blob of peanut butter and sugar that had landed on Yolanda’s shoulder. At least she wasn’t wearing a favorite outfit, or even an attractive one. Tally stuck the other half of the candy mixture into the microwave to soften, then carefully poured her peanut butter filling over the rest.

  “So, how did he die?” Yolanda said. “Do you know? Did someone kill him? They wouldn’t tell me.”

  “Yes, I do know. He died right there.” She pointed to the spot on the floor with the candy thermometer she was cleaning. “I walked in and found him.”

  Yolanda gazed at the floor, and a visible spasm ran through her. She crossed her arms and hunched her shoulders. “And?” she said.

  “And, yes, someone murdered him. Unless he fell onto a sharp object. But there wasn’t anything there for him to fall onto.”

  “Sharp object? Was he stabbed?”

  Tally nodded, unable to speak. She wanted to ask Yolanda about her scissors, but she also didn’t want to. So she stuck the dough into the fridge to chill and changed the subject completely.

  “You know the plastic models you were talking about the other day?”

  Yolanda gave her a blank stare. “He was stabbed with a plastic model? Of what?”

  “No, no. Nothing to do with…Gene. I was wondering if you’d found out anything. You were going to research having my candies replicated to put in your window? Remember?”

  Yolanda lifted her head, uncrossed her arms, and came alive, a bit. “Oh yes. I found out a little information. I did some printouts of prices to compare. Come over later and I’ll show you.”

  “Are you all right? I tried and tried to get hold of you last night, to tell you about Gene.”

  “My…phone was dead. Sorry.” Yolanda gazed past Tally’s shoulder when she told that obvious lie. She’d been kicking the legs of the stool, and Tally finally noticed.