Beignets, Brides and Bodies

by J. R. Ripley

  Houston and Irwin both agreed that this guy said he was looking for something. The big question was what? Was there something Lisa had that was worth stealing? TV, jewelry? If I could figure out what I might figure out who.

  ‘Did anything happen after I left your place?’

  ‘No.’ Laura set down her coffee and muffin. My fingers twitched toward it. ‘It was quiet downstairs the rest of the night.’ She yawned. ‘Thankfully. You know,’ Laura said, arranging items on the tabletop, ‘I can’t help wondering if those two didn’t make up the whole burglar thing.’

  ‘I doubt it.’

  ‘Why do you say that?’

  I pulled a face. ‘You’ve seen those two.’ I sidled over to the table, my back to Laura’s coffee and muffin. What was that? Pumpkin-maple? With a drizzle of icing on top? I love pumpkin-maple.

  Laura’s brow arched.

  ‘You think they’re smart enough to invent a story like that and,’ I said, holding up my hand to stop her retort, ‘keep their stories straight the whole time?’ My hand snaked behind my back like it had a mind of its own.

  Laura grinned. ‘I guess not.’

  ‘I know not. And I keep wondering what this mystery man that Houston and Irwin saw was up to. Maybe Lisa kept a secret journal.’ I could feel the half-devoured muffin now; my fingertips crawled along its crumbling side.

  ‘Maybe,’ Laura agreed. Her hand suddenly shot behind me and snatched up the muffin. I watched it go down her throat in two bites. She held out the remaining sliver in her fingertips. ‘Did you want some?’

  ‘No,’ I sighed. ‘You finish it.’

  Laura nodded, swallowed and licked her fingers. ‘Where would you like the fryer?’

  We adjusted the deep fryer on the center of the table and I laid the drip tray to the right. ‘Who knew what secrets it might hold?’ I added a jug of oil to the well of the twin fryer basket appliance.

  ‘What might hold?’

  ‘Lisa Willoughby’s secret journal. Like maybe the key to her killer. Did Houston say anything about Lisa keeping a diary?’

  Laura shook her head. ‘Not that he mentioned to me.’

  ‘Could you ask him?’ I snatched some paper cups from a box on the grass and set them near the three coffee urns.

  Laura groaned. ‘I’d rather not.’

  I turned to grab an electric cord off the lawn and bumped into Rob Gregory, who had his hand on the same cord. Rob and Trish, in matching khaki trousers and green polo shirts, snarled and said, ‘You’re late with the rent on your apartment again, Miller!’ In unison, no less.

  ‘I know, I know.’ I tugged at the cord. ‘Do you mind?’ Rob and his wife, Trish, are a discouragingly handsome couple who act like a couple of love-struck teenagers around one another. They were young, tan, fit and prosperous.

  The Gregorys weren’t keen on having my beignet café across the street from their own established coffee and bakery. Then again, it hadn’t seemed to be putting a dent in their business. Rob has short, wavy brown hair with sun-bleached streaks at the temples that fall casually around his rectangular face. His hairline seems to be slowly receding, but other days I feel like it’s halfway down his forehead, moving in and out like the tide.

  Trish’s hair is two shades darker and much longer, hanging down to her shoulders. Light freckles dusted the bridge of her nose. Karma Koffee-branded visors completed their look. I’d forgotten my visor at the café. Maybe I’d send Aubrey back for it later.

  Aubrey had been working for the Gregorys when I’d met her. She’d asked me for a job. I couldn’t afford to hire her but neither could I afford to say no and miss out on a chance to stick it to my competition slash landlords.

  ‘This one’s ours,’ Rob replied, pulling back on the electric cable. ‘That’s yours.’ He pointed his free hand toward an orange coiled cord under my table.

  ‘Fine.’ I had one more day before the late fee kicked in on the apartment rent – let them wait. Caitie Conklin’s Salon de Belezza booth on the opposite side was still dark and empty. I guess she figured nobody wanted a trim at six a.m.

  She was right.

  And maybe I’d picked the wrong business to go into. Maybe I should have opened a salon. I’d worked in one for years, after all.

  The big corner tent occupied by The Hitching Post, on the other hand, was abuzz with activity. Bright spotlights burned holes in the darkness and a half-dozen workers were bustling to the orders of Clive and Johnny. Looked like it was going to be a busy day for the guys.

  I’d left instructions for Mom and Kelly. They’d be operating the café while Aubrey and I ran things at the tent. Out of the corner of my eye I caught sight of a lumbering figure in a loose white shirt and baggy jeans heading my way. My heart jumped. ‘Oh, no,’ I moaned as the shadowy figure took shape, looking more like a zombie straight out of the Living Dead. ‘Brian,’ I sighed, ‘what are you doing here?’

  My dead ex-husband’s face lit up in a hundred-watt smile. He thrust his hands in his back pockets. ‘I had a delivery.’ He jerked his thumb toward the truck at the curb: Miller Transport. I should have spotted it earlier. Oh, well.

  ‘Dry goods and soda for this Labor of Love thing. Plus I got a monthly contract with MacHobb’s Aerospace Manufacturing over in Prescott. Pickup at Phoenix International Airport and drop off at their facility.’ He spun his head around. ‘Looks like it’s going to be quite a shindig.’

  ‘It’s not a shindig,’ I replied. ‘It’s a charity event.’ And it looked like Brian would be in the vicinity monthly. Wonderful. Not.

  ‘What-ev.’ Brian smiled at Laura. ‘Who’s this?’

  I scowled. ‘This is my friend, Laura Duval.’

  Laura held out her hand.

  I saw him glance at her ring finger. ‘Unmarried, I see.’

  ‘Yeah, but you aren’t,’ I interjected. ‘How’s the new wife?’

  Laura and I exchanged a look. ‘Pleased to meet you, Brian,’ she said.

  ‘Wait till you get to know him better,’ I mumbled.

  Brian shook his head. ‘Aren’t you ever going to let go, Mags?’

  I hate it when anybody calls me Mags. And only Brian does it. ‘Aren’t you ever going to go home?’ I retorted. ‘To your wife and stepkids?’

  Brian dropped Laura’s hand. ‘Don’t mind her. She’s always cranky in the morning. Speaking of which,’ his eyes bounced along the table, ‘got any coffee ready? Maybe a beignet or three?’ he asked hopefully, patting his stomach.

  ‘Sorry,’ I said. ‘We won’t be ready for at least half an hour. I expect you’ll be halfway home to Phoenix by then.’

  Brian shook his head. ‘I’m staying the day. The wife’s busy with the kids at her folks’ house in Scottsdale so I thought I’d hang out.’ He sidled between Laura and me. ‘If you have some free time later maybe we can hang out together.’

  ‘Sure,’ I said, giving Brian a shove in the opposite direction, ‘why don’t you go wait for me? Like at the bottom of the Grand Canyon.’

  THIRTY-THREE

  ‘So that’s the ex, huh?’ Laura said as we watched the big dope shuffle off, hands in his pockets.

  ‘Yep. Sorry you had to see that.’

  Laura took my elbow. ‘So,’ she wriggled her eyebrows, ‘anybody new on the horizon? Like Brad Smith, maybe?’ She filled the napkin dispenser. ‘What’s with the two of you, anyway?’

  ‘Nothing,’ I said. At least, I thought it was nothing. ‘I mean, we’re sort of friends, is all. Not even that really.’

  ‘If you say so.’

  ‘I don’t have time for romance right now.’ I filled the second napkin dispenser a little more ruthlessly than she had the other.

  Laura wasn’t letting up. ‘No? That’s not what folks are saying who saw that big strong detective carrying you in his arms and making out with you in the middle of the street.’

  The heat rose in a whoosh to my face. My cheeks were redder than a couple of sunburned red beets. Thank goodness the sun was barely up
. If folks noticed, they would think I’d developed some hideous disease.

  ‘But-but …’ I spluttered. Talk about exaggeration! What had people been saying? And how long would it be before VV Vargas found out and sought revenge on me? My pulse quickened. ‘Making out with me? Is that really what you heard?’ I dropped my voice as I glanced furtively around.

  Laura nodded. ‘Afraid so.’ She squeezed my wrist. ‘You mean it’s true?’

  ‘What’s true?’ Aubrey stood on the other side of the folding table. She tossed my visor at my chest. It thunked and fell to the ground. Laura picked it up and handed it back to me. ‘What’s true?’ Aubrey repeated, looking from me to Laura and back again.

  My mouth was too dry for words.

  ‘About that detective and Maggie,’ Laura answered. ‘Making out in the street.’

  ‘Oh, yeah,’ Aubrey waved her hand, ‘that. No wonder they call it Smile Street.’

  ‘You knew?’ I blushed all over again.

  ‘Sure, everybody’s talking about it.’

  I pushed my hands against my hips. ‘Well, it’s not what any of you think!’ Everybody. That meant Mom. That meant Donna and Andy. Did it mean my nephews too?

  ‘If you say so,’ Aubrey said, tying on her apron. ‘Oh, hey, good morning, Mr and Mrs Gregory!’ She gave a princess-like turn of the hand.

  The Gregorys barely acknowledged her. If looks could kill, poor, sweet Aubrey would be a smudge on the ground right about now. It seemed the Gregorys held a grudge.

  ‘What about Brad?’ Aubrey asked, batting her lashes all innocent-like.

  I narrowed my eyes at her. ‘What about Brad?’

  ‘What does he think about you and the detective smooching in the street?’ Aubrey’s hand flew to her lips as she suppressed a giggle.

  ‘Oh, there’s absolutely nothing going on between Brad and our Maggie,’ Laura said. ‘So I’m sure he didn’t mind at all.’

  How I wished to be an ostrich and bury my head in the ground.

  ‘That’s funny,’ Aubrey replied. ‘I thought he was sort of sweet on you.’

  ‘Well,’ I said out of the side of my mouth as I kicked the dirt, ‘Brad did say he was going to be here today.’ I ran my fingers through my hair. ‘We sort of agreed to meet up.’

  ‘Ooh,’ chorused Laura and Aubrey.

  I tossed a beignet at them. They dodged left and right and the beignet hit Trish Gregory on the bridge of her nose. ‘Sorry!’ I cried, trying hard not to laugh. ‘Should have ducked,’ I muttered under my breath as I averted my eyes.

  ‘How’s it going, ladies?’ Cosmic Ray, Table Rock’s own visitor center greeter – and possible visitor from another planet – appeared before my eyes. ‘Beautiful day for a little love, isn’t it?’

  I agreed. Cosmic was dressed conservatively in a tie-dye Woodstock Summer Of Love T-shirt and baggy, olive-green cargo shorts. Birkenstocks kept his feet from touching the ground. A raspberry beret sat atop his domed skull. If this was San Francisco and the Summer of ’69, he’d blend in perfectly. Heck, he’d probably be taken for a member of the Grateful Dead. In fact, some Table Rockers swear Jerry Garcia is hanging out here in Table Rock in his Eternal Afterlife. And I’m not talking about inside pint ice-cream containers.

  Laura bade hello to Cosmic and goodbye to us. ‘Time to get to the store.’

  Cosmic Ray turned his head toward the center of the square for a moment. Just long enough for me to notice his pigtails wrapped in raspberry-colored scrunchies. Now pigtails are not ponytails, but would Houston Willoughby and Irwin Acheson know the difference? Possibly not. They were men, after all. Probably didn’t know a beehive from a blowout.

  Could what Irwin described as a ponytail have been Cosmic and his tight pigtails? And just because I’d only seen him in pigtails didn’t mean he sometimes might not sport a solitary ponytail instead.

  ‘I’ll take an order of beignets and a large coffee.’ He whipped out a worn brown leather wallet, wet his thumb and plucked out a few bills.

  ‘Coming right up, sir.’ Aubrey set the money in the cashbox and counted out his change.

  I got busy on the beignets, keeping one eye on the pastry, the other on Cosmic. ‘Say,’ I began, turning the dough over in the oil as they reached the golden brown I was looking for, ‘you’ve lived here a long time, right?’

  ‘Yep.’ He nodded.

  ‘Did you grow up in this area?’ Or on Venus, maybe?

  ‘Casa Grande, down near Phoenix. I moved up here after I graduated. Went to college a couple of years in Flagstaff and sort of drifted this way.’

  I nodded. I knew Casa Grande; it lies east of the Sonoran Desert and I’d been there on a couple of occasions. Maybe that was where his flying saucer had landed. There’s not a lot of folks out in the Sonoran Desert. Flying saucer pilots must love it.

  He certainly didn’t look Hispanic, but still … ‘Your folks grow up in the Southwest?’

  Aubrey shot me a look. I shot her one back that said to mind her own business as I tossed Cosmic Ray’s beignets onto a paper plate.

  ‘Mom and Pop were from Illinois. Mom’s health was poor so they moved out to the desert when I was but a young ’un.’

  ‘Probably learned to speak Spanish then.’

  He chuckled. ‘Enough to order a cerveza.’

  I smiled back to set him at ease and keep his guard down. I was slick. ‘I suppose you knew Lisa Willoughby?’

  He hesitated for a moment before replying. ‘You mean the young girl who was murdered?’ Cosmic blinked and rubbed his wrist. ‘Can’t say that I did.’ He blinked once more. ‘Well, you ladies enjoy your day. I hope you like the tent I picked specially for you.’

  I glanced at the Gregorys’ tent. They seemed to be raking in the orders with a line twice as long as ours. Who was I kidding? They had a line. Maggie’s Beignet Café’s temporary stand had none.

  On the other side, the Salon de Belezza was pulling in a steady stream of customers, too. Caitie’d pulled down a canvas divider between our tents. I wasn’t sure if it was because she didn’t want to see me or if she simply felt her clients expected a certain amount of privacy while getting clipped.

  And getting clipped was exactly what they were getting at the prices Caitie Conklin charges. I’d let her cut my hair once and was still digging myself out of debt. I blew a strand of hair from my face. Maybe I’d give myself a trim later. I was pretty sure I hadn’t lost my touch. Of course, I could always practice on the cat first, or Mom.

  Fortunately, once the day warmed up and the crowds filled the square, we managed to hold our own in the beignet versus pastry and muffin wars. I’d even managed to snatch one of those Heaven’s Building Block muffins off the Karma Koffee table when the Gregorys weren’t looking.

  A girl can’t live on beignets alone.

  Aubrey elbowed me and I placed several dollar bills under their cream pitcher to cover the cost. I told her I was going to do it anyway.

  During a late-afternoon break in the action, Aubrey pulled me aside. ‘What was that all about before?’ she demanded.

  ‘What was what all about?’

  ‘Why were you grilling Cosmic Ray earlier?’

  ‘Grilling?’

  ‘Yeah, like he was a criminal or an illegal alien or something.’

  I took a seat in one of the folding chairs and motioned for Aubrey to do the same. It had been a long day and my feet were practically screaming to be let out of their misery. I explained how some Hispanic male had purportedly broken into Lisa Willoughby’s condo looking for something the night before and been caught in the act by her brother, Houston. ‘From what Houston and Irwin said, the guy was about Cosmic Ray’s age too.’ I pulled off my sandals and rubbed my aching feet.

  ‘Sounds to me like there’s a lot of dangerous activity going on around town, Maggie.’ Aubrey dropped her voice. ‘If you don’t mind me saying so, I think you should truly, truly stay out of it. Let the police do their job.’

  ‘I’m not sure they�
��re all that competent, to tell you the truth.’ I gestured with my head toward the bandstand. Detective Highsmith had his arms wrapped around VV Vargas. A group of teenagers and several adults were setting up on the stage. The Hitching Post’s bridal fashion show had run there earlier. ‘Look at him,’ I complained. ‘Instead of out trying to solve a murder, Table Rock’s lone detective is playing lovey-dovey with the prosecuting attorney.’

  ‘Yeah, there’s some serious PDA going on there.’

  I watched them move slowly hip to hip as the Table Rock High School band started banging out a Broadway show tune. ‘What?’

  ‘PDA – public display of affection,’ Aubrey explained.

  I didn’t mind the explanation but did she have to make me sound so ancient? ‘I see.’ I slapped the lid of the cashbox down. There was definitely too much PDA going on.

  ‘Not jealous, are you?’ Aubrey teased. The red sun set off the highlights in her strawberry-blonde hair.

  ‘Of course not.’ I snatched a towel and viciously wiped the tabletop. ‘I just don’t want to see innocent people get hurt.’ I huffed. ‘Or killers go free.’

  Mom pedaled up on my pink beauty and parked it behind the tent. ‘The café is closed for the day so I thought I’d come and help out here.’ She planted her hands on her hips. ‘It was slow over there anyway. This seems to be where all the action is today.’

  I pecked her on the cheek. ‘Thanks, Mom.’

  Keith showed up next with a keyboard under his arm. I knew he was there to see Aubrey but I got to him first. ‘Hi, Keith,’ I said, gifting him my biggest smile.

  ‘Hello, Ms Miller.’ He looked around me to Aubrey.

  ‘In the band, eh?’

  He nodded and shifted the keyboard from one arm to the other. ‘That’s right. We’re on later. You’re going to be there, right?’ He was looking at Aubrey again.

  ‘I wouldn’t miss it,’ she said.

  ‘What do you know about Cody Ryan? He’s in the band with you, right?’