The Case of the Abandoned Aussie

by B R Snow

  “Hmmm,” I said.

  I was using a technique I’d learned over the years watching detective shows. When in doubt, say something sage. Hmmm was the best I could come up with on short notice.

  “You said Mrs. Crawford was the potential heir. I would have thought that would have been worked out in their divorce settlement.”

  Rosaline transitioned into exasperated and exhaled loudly. She gave Jerry a ‘You’re so going to pay for this’ look, then refocused on me.

  “It’s a complicated situation,” Rosaline said. “Lots of legal questions, shareholder concerns, and a host of other issues I’m sure you wouldn’t be interested in.” And then she whispered, just loud enough for me to hear. “Or understand.”

  Okay, so that’s the way you want to play it. She’s going to pay for that crack.

  “Of course,” I said, nodding. “But how will you continue doing your job if you have to go into hiding?”

  “I’ll figure something out,” Rosaline said, her eyes narrowed. “I always do.”

  “Yes,” I said. “I’m sure you do.”

  “Executives have to adapt if they expect to survive,” she said. “Mr. Crawford taught me that lesson a long time ago.”

  “That’s why I spend my day surrounded by dogs,” I said, laughing. “And by the way, Chloe is doing great. She’s growing like a weed.”

  “Good for her,” Rosaline said, flatly.

  “I guess I should get going,” I said, sliding out of the booth. “There’s a chicken pot pie over there with my name on it. But if I don’t get there soon, I’m sure Josie won’t be shy about claiming it.”

  “Oh, yes,” Rosaline said, glancing down the rows of booths. “The queen bee beauty queen of Clay Bay. The big fish. But such a small pond.”

  I glared down at Rosaline.

  “Josie would be the big fish in whatever size pond she decided to swim in.”

  “I seriously doubt that,” Rosaline said. “But if that helps make you happy with whatever limited life choices you’ve both made, go for it.”

  “I guess there’s only room for one queen bee, huh?”

  “It’s nice to see you’ve been paying attention,” she said, reaching across the table to grab Jerry’s hand.

  “I imagine that’s a lesson you learned from Mrs. Crawford.”

  “Not really,” Rosaline said, shrugging. “I learned that long before I met her.” Her eyes welled with tears. “But I’m sure there were many things I could have learned from Marge if we’d gotten the chance to work together. Now, I’m afraid we’ll never know.”

  Out of words and on the verge of feeling sympathy for her, I waved goodbye and walked back to the booth.

  “How’d it go?” Josie said through a bite of an onion ring.

  I picked up my fork and poked a couple of holes in the crust to release the steam trapped inside my chicken pot pie. At least it was still hot. I guess the evening wasn’t a total disaster.

  “Not well. You were right.”

  “You’re welcome,” she said.

  We both glanced up at the same time. Jerry was hovering by our booth.

  “I need to talk with you,” he said.

  “Why?” I said, sliding a piece of chicken into my mouth.

  “I need to explain a few things,” he said, glancing back at his booth.

  “I don’t think Rosaline would approve,” I said.

  “Oh, there’s no doubt about that,” he said. “But that doesn’t matter at the moment. Can I take you to dinner tomorrow night?”

  “No, dinner is, so to speak, off the table at the moment,” I said, shaking my head.

  “You need to give me a chance to explain,” Jerry said, his eyes pleading.

  “No, I don’t think I do,” I said, taking another bite.

  “How’s the pot pie?” Josie said.

  “It’s delicious. Want a bite?”

  “No, thanks. I’m waiting for my dessert,” Josie said.

  “C’mon, Suzy. Are you going to make me beg?” Jerry said.

  “That would probably be a good start,” Josie said.

  “I think talking will help,” Jerry said.

  “Help who?” I said, finally looking up at him.

  “Us… You… Me? Gee, I don’t know,” he said, managing a small laugh.

  The laugh worked, and I thought for a moment before nodding my head.

  “Okay,” I said. “But no dinner. You can buy me breakfast tomorrow. I’ll meet you at nine at the Café.”

  “That’s great,” he said, beaming. “I’ll see you there. Goodnight, Josie.”

  We both watched him walk away as Mandy delivered Josie’s blueberry pie and ice cream. Josie started working on it immediately. I resumed eating my dinner.

  “He is cute,” Josie said, wiping ice cream off her mouth.

  “Yeah. And smart. Pity he has a girlfriend.”

  “And hates dogs,” Josie said. “Rosaline seems like a strange choice for him, don’t you think?”

  “No, I can see it,” I said. “They’re both corporate types, and they have a tendency to stick with their own kind, right?”

  “I guess,” Josie said. “By the way, good job making him work as hard as you did. And nice touch on doing it over breakfast.”

  “Thanks. I thought you’d appreciate that.”

  “You’re going to have the French toast, aren’t you?”

  “I certainly am.”

  “I like the way you think.”

  Chapter 25

  It was raining hard the next morning. Luckily I found a parking spot right outside the Café and only got mildly drenched covering the twenty feet from my car to the entrance. I walked inside, said hello to the hostess, and found Jerry sitting on a small bench near the cash register.

  “Good morning,” he said, staring intensely at me.

  “What is it?” I said, touching my hair, then glancing down at myself.

  In my race to get here on time, without the assistance of morning coffee, had I forgotten to do something important? Perhaps I’d neglected to put on makeup.? Or my pants. I glanced in the mirror behind the cash register, and everything seemed to be in order. I turned back to Jerry who continued to stare at me. It was officially getting on my nerves.

  “Why are you staring at me?”

  “I’m sorry,” he said. “It’s just that not many women could look as beautiful coming in out of the rain.”

  “Geez, Jerry,” I said. “Don’t start with that nonsense. I haven’t even had coffee yet. Besides, it’s a lie, and we both know it.”

  “I’m not lying,” Jerry said, following the laughing hostess to our table.

  I sat down and accepted the menu from the hostess. She also handed me a small towel.

  “I’m not sure if you want this, Suzy,” she said, still chuckling. “You might ruin the overall look.”

  “You’ll get yours, Abby,” I said, snatching the towel from her hand. “Just you wait.”

  She laughed and headed back toward the entrance. I wiped my face, blotted at my hair, then gave up and tossed the towel on the table. Our waitress approached carrying two mugs and a pot of coffee.

  “Hi, Eunice,” I said smiling up at the woman who’d worked at the Café longer than I’ve been alive.

  “How are you doing, Suzy? Would you both like coffee?”

  We nodded yes, and she poured then left to give us time to decide on our order. I didn’t need it. I knew exactly what I wanted. I added milk to my coffee and took a sip. I nodded, took a deep breath, and decided, even though my morning caffeine levels were dangerously low, I was ready to do battle.

  “So, you mentioned something about an explanation. What do you have to tell me?”

  “Getting right to it, huh?” Jerry said, putting down his menu. “You sure you wouldn’t like to eat first?”

  “I’m not much of a multitasker, but I’m sure I can handle talking and eating at the same time,” I said, drumming my fingers on the table. “And I have a ton of
work to take care of today.”

  That was true. I did. This detective stuff, especially for amateurs like me, is a real time sucker.

  “Okay,” he said. “First, I guess I should apologize.”

  “What exactly are you apologizing for, Jerry?”

  Wow. I caught him right between the eyes with that one. He looked at me, blinked, and then stared out the window at the rain. I grew even more annoyed with him. I mean, really. The guy had all night to come up with an answer for that one. It should have been a layup.

  “I’m sorry for not being clearer with you at dinner the other night,” he said.

  “Clearer?”

  “Yes,” he said. “I think that’s the right word. I should have been more forthcoming about my situation with Rosaline.”

  “By situation, do you mean the part about how you like to spend your afternoons in cheap roadside motels?”

  “I guess that’s part of it,” he said, running a hand through his hair.

  I was on a roll this morning. Only two sips of coffee and I already had him on the ropes.

  “I would have thought that you’d be apologizing to Rosaline,” I said, reloading caffeine. “She was the one you were trying to cheat on.”

  “Yeah, about that,” he said. “Rosaline and I have a connection that’s hard to explain.”

  “I bet.”

  I thought about asking him if their connection including her getting busy with Carl the Gardener. But if he didn’t know about Rosaline and Carl, he might start obsessing about that and lose his ability to focus on anything else.

  The waitress arrived. I ordered French toast and sausage and sat back in my chair with my arms folded across my chest. Jerry fumbled through the menu and eventually decided on an omelet with sourdough toast. We handed the menus to the waitress, and she topped off our coffee and left.

  “You should have ordered the French toast,” I said. “It’s really good here.”

  “I’m not a big fan,” he said, again staring out the window at the rain that continued to pound.

  “Who doesn’t like French toast?”

  “It’s not that. The toast is fine. It’s the maple syrup I don’t like.”

  “Too sweet?”

  “Yeah, that must be it. I loved it when I was a kid, but my taste buds changed at some point. And now that the Crawford’s were both found drenched in it when they got killed, it’s definitely off my list.”

  “That’s right,” I said. “I almost forgot. You’re down a client.”

  “That’s not a problem. I was kind of glad to see her go. But not the way she did.” Jerry shrugged and sipped his coffee. He started humming a children’s ditty that sounded familiar. I finally remembered it. The Wheels on the Bus. I thought it was an odd choice for a grown man, but I guess we all have our baggage to deal with. I listened to him hum it twice as he stared out the window, then he stopped and looked at me.

  “I hope we can get past this,” he said.

  “Jerry, I hate to tell you this, but there is no we. There never was.”

  I fell silent and then I heard the children’s ditty running through my head. Great. Thanks for sharing that with me, Jerry.

  “But you did feel something during dinner, right? I know I did.”

  “Maybe,” I conceded. “But that was before I found out you’re in a relationship.”

  “It’s not that kind of a relationship.”

  “Jerry, if it includes moaning in roadside motels in the middle of the afternoon, as far as I’m concerned, it’s that kind of relationship. And if you would lie to Rosaline, then you’d probably lie to me, too. That’s the way it always seems to work.”

  “Yeah, I can understand why you’d feel that way.”

  He gave me his best hound dog expression. I stared back at it. Then he tried a smile. Better, but not good enough to get my mind off my undelivered breakfast. I glanced at the kitchen. Not a piece of French toast in sight. So I decided to put the time to good use. And anything was better than talking about the dreaded we.

  “Josie and I had an interesting visit from Mrs. Crawford the other day.”

  “Really?” he said, taking his eyes off the rain to look at me. “Most of my time with Marge was anything but interesting.”

  “She was looking for a key,” I said.

  “A key? And she thought you had it?”

  “Actually, she thought Chloe could have swallowed it.”

  “I guess a dog could be stupid enough to do something like that.”

  Then he realized what he’d said and who he’d said it to and blanched.

  “I didn’t mean that,” he said. “I’m sorry.”

  I glared at him. The final vestige of his chances for a comeback vaporized.

  “Look, Suzy, I take that back,” he said, backpedaling as fast as his little legs could carry him. Then he realized it was futile. “Ah, forget it.” He leaned back in his chair and now that he realized he’d completely blown his chances with me, he seemed to relax. “So, did the dog eat it?”

  “No. Did Mrs. Crawford ever mention that she was looking for a key?”

  “Not to me,” he said. “But Rosaline figured out that she was looking for something. She cleaned the entire house by herself. That’s something psychologists would call an out of character behavioral pattern.” He frowned, deep in thought. “I think that’s the term.”

  “What do you think she was looking for?”

  “We’re not sure,” he said. “My guess is that Marge thought there was some paperwork floating around that might prevent her from gaining control of the Crawford empire. Who knows? Rich people, right?”

  “And you were helping her figure out all her options?”

  “Yeah, basically,” he said.

  “Has Rosaline decided where she’s going to go?”

  “Yeah,” he said flatly.

  “And?”

  “And that has to remain a secret given the danger she might be in.”

  “Are you going with her?” I said, spotting our waitress heading our way.

  “Uh, that topic is still, let’s say, under consideration.”

  We both sat back as the waitress slid our plates in front of us.

  “We just switched syrups so let me know what you think,” she said.

  “I’m sure it’ll do the trick, Eunice,” I said, laughing.

  “Yeah, it’s not bad,” she said. “Mind you, it’s not Sugarland Farms, but what is, right?”

  I didn’t have a clue what she was talking about. Jerry ignored her as he examined his plate.

  She topped off our coffee again and waited until she was satisfied we had everything we needed, then left. I reached for the maple syrup container and poured it all over my French toast dusted with powdered sugar. A handful of blueberries were tossed over the top. I made a mental note to have a word with the cook about Chef Claire’s blended technique.

  “You sure you don’t want to try it?” I said.

  “No, thanks,” Jerry said, shaking his head.

  I took a big bite and sighed audibly.

  “I bet you wish you could make her moan like that, Jerry.”

  We both glanced up and saw Rosaline staring down at us. She was drenched, and her eyes were wide and wild.

  “You thought you were just going to sneak out with this trollop without me finding out?”

  Trollop? If it hadn’t been for the French toast, I would have been at her throat. But since she was Jerry’s problem, I decided to keep eating and see how he played it.

  “Relax, Rosaline,” Jerry said, embarrassed. “It’s just breakfast.”

  “So I see,” she said, removing her coat and shaking it just hard enough to spray some water on my face. She hung the coat on a nearby hook and sat down.

  “I guess I could eat,” she said, grabbing a fork from the empty table next to us and taking a bite of Jerry’s omelet. Then she picked up a piece of his sourdough toast and glared at me as she chewed. Jerry stared back out the window appare
ntly longing to be outside playing in the rain.

  “How’s the French toast?” Rosaline said, pointing her fork at my plate.

  “It’s amazing,” I said, resolved not to react and provoke the response I knew she was hoping for. “And I’ll have to ask them what brand of maple syrup this is. It’s incredible.”

  “I’ll be the judge of that,” she said, cutting off a piece of my French toast with her fork. She swirled it in the maple syrup and shoveled it into her mouth. “Yeah, it’s okay. But I think it’s been stepped on a bit with some extra sugar. So technically, it’s not 100% pure maple syrup.”

  She noticed the confused look on my face and shrugged.

  “When you work for the Crawford Candy Company you’re forced to become an expert on all sorts of things. Especially the things that go into our candy.” She paused to take a quick look outside at the rain still pounding the pavement. “When I was a kid, my parents only allowed one brand in the house.”

  “Where was that, Rosaline?”

  “In a distant land, in another time,” she said, helping herself to another bite. “How about you, Suzy? Where did you grow up?”

  “Right here in Clay Bay,” I said.

  “That explains a lot,” she said, maintaining her glare.

  “Rosaline, please,” Jerry said, pushing his plate away.

  “I’ll deal with you later,” she said.

  “Yes, I’m sure you will,” Jerry said.

  “You’re weak,” she said, talking to him, but looking at me.

  “So where did you two lovebirds meet?” I said.

  “She’s funny, Jerry,” Rosaline said, chuckling.

  Actually, it sounded like a mad cackle, but I wasn’t about to go into it with her.

  “We connected in New York last year,” Rosaline said. “Mrs. Crawford had just resurfaced and was looking for some financial advice. She asked Mr. Crawford to handle it, and Jerry was one of the people we interviewed. He and I just hit it off. Isn’t that right, sweetie?”

  She squeezed his upper thigh hard. Jerry winced but managed a smile.

  “We certainly did, Rosaline,” he whispered.

  “What can I say?” she said, flashing me a smile. “Jerry knows what gets my motor running. And all the good things that happen when it gets revved up. Don’t you, sweetie?”