by Maddie Day
“Awesome,” I said. “Hey, come on in, guys.” The timer dinged, so I hurried over to draw out the biscuits. I slid them onto a wire rack. “Hungry, Sean?”
His eyes lit up brighter than a full moon. “Obviously. Those smell amazing, Robbie.”
“Thanks. Come on over and grab a few. You want milk with them?”
“Yes, please.” By now Sean knew where the plates were. A minute later he sat at the closest table layering butter onto three split biscuits.
“What am I, chopped liver?” Abe mock-whined.
“Help yourself, sweetheart. You want milk, too, or something more interesting to drink?”
“I think I could handle one on the interesting spectrum. Do you have any stout?”
“I do. Back in a flash.” By the time I returned from my apartment with two thick, dark stouts in glasses, the guys had finished their biscuits, and Sean’s milk glass was empty, too. He was bent over his phone, doing what teens do. I handed Abe his beer and clinked glasses with him.
“Cheers, darlin’.” He rolled his eyes at his son with an exasperated look.
“He’s fine,” I mouthed silently, and took a sip.
Sean rose and scuffed over to the tree. “Awesome noble fir.” He leaned in, inhaling. “Nice.”
“Smells great, doesn’t it?” I joined him. “How did you know what kind of tree it is?”
“I kind of love trees. I, like, study them, and I’m in a Junior Foresters club at school.”
Abe moseyed over and slung his arm around Sean’s shoulders. “He’s thinking of studying tree science.”
“Yeah. Or math.” He ducked out of his dad’s reach and lifted a small box of ornaments out of the big box I’d set on a table next to the tree. “Okay to get started?”
“Sure,” I said. “I already strung the lights. Have at it.”
We dug into the glass balls, carved wooden figures, and souvenir ornaments I’d collected. Naturally, Sean handled the top branches while I took charge of the lowest ones. I made sure not to put anything breakable down there. Birdy had joined us and was already batting around a painted wooden snowman I’d hung.
While Sean was around the back of the tree, I murmured to Abe, “Hear anything about who the, uh, person was?”
“No. But there’s a lot of buzz that it might be Kristina, the ex.” He kept his voice low, too.
“I heard that, too. Her twin sister came in today.”
“Toni? She’s a tough nut. She owns a duplex and doesn’t treat her tenant at all well.”
“In what way?” I asked.
“Doesn’t fix things that are broken. Keeps raising the rent. I know the renter, Shirley Csik. She’s not a happy camper.”
“Someone named Shirley comes in to eat every once in a while. Dark hair, athletic?”
“That’s her.”
I tilted my head. “That’s a funny last name. Chick, like in chicken?”
“That’s how you say it, but it’s Hungarian. Spelled C-S-I-K. We went to high school together. She was the captain of the soccer team.”
“Is the other side of the duplex empty?” I asked.
“No, that’s where Toni lives. She keeps up her side just fine.” He shook his head.
Sean rejoined us. “Dad, at school kids were saying that the skeleton in the burned-up house is a lady who disappeared when I was little, and that her husband killed her. Is that true?”
So much for keeping our voices down.
“I have no idea, Seanie,” Abe said.
Sean rolled his eyes at his dad using the childish nickname but he didn’t object verbally.
“The police are looking into it,” I said. I glanced at Abe, who was well aware of my history. “In fact, Detective Octavia is back doing the investigation.”
“No kidding,” Abe said. “Did she come in to eat?”
“She did, and she let slip that she and Jim got married, too.” I held up a hand. “I’m fine with it. Frankly, I’m glad she took him off my hands. I wouldn’t be with you otherwise.” I slid my arm around him and squeezed his firm waist.
He kissed the top of my head. “That makes two of us.” His voice was husky.
“Hey, dudes, cut it out,” Sean said.
I laughed and let go of Abe to open a green box. “This is the angel for the top. Whoever puts it on gets to make a wish. Sean, want to do the honors?”
“A Christmas wish?” Abe asked.
“Any wish.” I smiled but was hit with a wave of sadness. “It was my mom’s ritual.” I watched as Sean mounted the step stool carefully. He took the angel from the box and slid it onto the tippy top of the tree.
“Perfect,” Abe said.
Sean climbed down and peered into the ornaments box. “Looks like we got them all.”
I snapped my fingers. “Nope, one more.” I hurried to my desk and returned with two new ornaments in my hand. I handed Sean one. “I had these made. One for you and one for me.”
“Sweet,” the teen murmured as he examined the wooden gingerbread dog with a collar reading “Cocoa.” He looked up. “You even got his name painted on it.”
“A crafter at that new artisan co-op in town customized them for me.”
“You’re awesome, Robbie. Thanks.” He extended his fist for a fist bump.
I bumped, then handed him the matching dog. “Here. Hang this one for me.”
He obliged. “That reminds me. What’s that corny thing you say, Dad? Great minds think alike?” He slid his hand into his jeans pocket and handed me a small flat red envelope. “Open it.”
I drew out a wooden skillet-shaped ornament. It was painted blue on both sides, with Pans ’N Pancakes neatly lettered in white, and had a loop of string attached to a hole in the handle. My throat thickened. “I love it. Thank you so much, Sean.” I gazed up at him.
“I made it in shop class. Well, they call it ‘Maker Space,’ but it’s still shop.”
Abe beamed at both of us. I swiped a tear from the corner of my eye.
Sean peered at me. “Are you crying?”
I sniffed. “It’s such a sweet thing to do for me, that’s all. They’re happy tears, kid.”
“All right, enough sweetness from you two,” Abe said, but his voice was gentle and full of love. He found the switch on the light cord and flipped it. The tiny colored and white lights on the tree glowed and made the glass ornaments sparkle.
“Cool,” Sean said in a soft voice. “I really like Christmas.”
I did, too. I wished a mysterious skeleton hadn’t intruded on the cozy season. But it was an old mystery, and if Octavia couldn’t solve it, no one could.
Chapter Eleven
The Mediterranean breakfast sandwich was making people nod in approval after their first bite the next morning. The lit and decorated tree elicited oohs and aahs, too. To a one, customers told me how pretty it was. The contrast to outdoors might have had something to do with it. Even after the sun ostensibly had risen at eight, it was still dark out there. Rain rapped insistently on the west-facing windows, and hungry diners came in wet, cold, and miserable.
Buck pushed through the door. He shook off his hat and coat before hanging them. “Guess we should oughta count our lucky hens it’s thirty-six degrees out and not twenty-six, because this would be some kind of snowstorm if it was any colder,” he told me.
“You’re right about that. Hey, missed you at lunch yesterday.”
He shook his head. “Some kinda big work powwow I had to attend. The mucky-mucks and their meetings. Wastes everybody’s time.” He sniffed. “Goldarnit, it smells good in here, Robbie.”
I laughed. “Sit yourself down, then. The usual?”
“Yepperoozy.” He squinted at the list of specials. “What in Joe Hill’s backyard is a Mediterranean sandwich?”
“An omelet with feta cheese and black olives in pita bread, then grilled.”
“You lost your marbles, Robbie? Olives don’t belong in no breakfast, and I don’t have any idea what fatal cheese is. Gimme
a regular American breakfast, okay?”
I snorted. “You got it.” I headed over to Danna at the grill. “Buck doesn’t want olives or fatal cheese.”
She laughed out loud. “That’s classic Buck. Let me guess. He asked for an American breakfast.”
“Exactly.”
“Coming right up.” She turned a couple of sausages, still smiling to herself.
I surveyed the restaurant. Buck had snagged the last open table. My upstairs guests sat holding hands and gazing at each other as they ate, dreamy expressions floating on their faces. The newly minted husband was apparently left-handed, because he held her left hand with his right. After the doorbell jangled, a tall man made his way in. He flipped down the hood of his rain jacket and looked around. I made my way to his side.
“Good morning. I’m Robbie, and this is my store.” I held out my hand.
He shook it with a hand that dwarfed mine. “James Franklin. I’ve been meaning to try this place for a while.” About forty, he also had an enormous head, with a receding hairline and a brow that bulged above bushy dark eyebrows. Right now his forehead was lined and his eyes downturned as if he was super worried. About what, I couldn’t guess.
“I’m afraid all the tables are full right now,” I said.
“But you’re welcome to wait. It won’t be too long.”
He glanced over my head. “Buck Bird has a spot at his table. I’ll go see if he minds company.”
“That’s fine.” I watched him. Franklin. Where had I heard that name recently? I snapped my fingers. That was Toni’s last name, too. Connected? Likely, in a town this size. I busied myself pouring coffee, delivering plates, and fending off questions.
“What do you think, Robbie?” a daily regular asked. “Are those bones Tina Geller’s?”
“Tina?” I asked. “Do you mean Kristina?”
“Sure. We always called her Tina, though. You know, Tina and Toni, the twins.”
“Anyway, I couldn’t tell you whose remains they are.”
“Seems to me they have to be hers.” She shook her head, making a tsking sound. “Boy howdy, the doc is in trouble now.”
“More coffee?” I wasn’t going there with her, or with any other customer, the lieutenant excepted.
I carried Buck’s triple-sized breakfast to his table, where James had settled in. “I guess you two know each other. Can I get you some breakfast, Mr. Franklin?”
“’Course we know each other,” Buck said. “Don’t I know everybody?”
I laughed. “Apparently.”
“Please call me Jamie,” the newcomer said. “I’d like the Mediterranean special, please. Despite my name, I’m half Greek. And a side of fruit salad.”
“I’ll get that over to you. Are you related to Toni, by any chance?”
Jamie’s nostrils flared and he looked like he’d tasted a moldy strawberry. “She’s my stepmother. Or was. Since my father died, I don’t have to call her that anymore.”
His stepmother? She couldn’t be more than five or ten years older than him. “I met her only yesterday,” I said. “I’m sorry for the loss of your father.”
“It’s been a few years, but thanks. If you ask me, she killed him.”
Whoa. I glanced at Buck, who gave a little shrug as if he already knew Jamie’s views.
“Everybody knows Toni married Dad for his money, and he had a lot of it,” Jamie went on. “He was thirty years older than her. Why would she pull something like that if not to get rich?”
Because she loved him, maybe? On the other hand, if she had a lot of money, why was she living in a duplex?
“Franklin here was asking me about the skeleton,” Buck said. “Wondered if it was Tina’s.”
Along with everyone else in town.
Jamie lowered his head into his palm for a moment. He straightened with full eyes. “Kristina was nothing like her evil twin sister.” His voice was thick with emotion. “Nothing.” He swallowed hard.
Was he about to start crying? I’d let Buck deal with that. “I’ll put in your order.” I bustled off. I needed to give Adele a call when I could and get the scoop on Jamie and Kristina. Something was definitely going on there.
Chapter Twelve
I’d just sat down at ten-thirty with an overdone sausage and a breakfast special when Adele breezed in carrying a big paper bag. The restaurant was only half empty, which was more crowded than usual for this time of day, and my crew and I were switching off taking breaks. I waved to my aunt, who set down the bag on my desk before sauntering over. After she planted a kiss on my cheek, she plopped down in the chair opposite mine.
“How’s my favorite niece?” she asked.
“Glad she’s sitting down for a minute. We’ve been busier—”
“Than a mosquito at a nudist colony?” She chuckled at her own joke.
I smiled. “Pretty much. I wouldn’t want to live at a place like that today, though. Brrr.”
“You and me, both.” She inhaled. “It smells as good as heaven’s own kitchen in here, hon.”
“It does, doesn’t it?” Danna had slid a fresh pan of biscuits out of the oven not a minute ago, and the current batch of sausages were maple cured. Combine that with the lingering aromas of sautéed onions and peppers, crisp bacon, and banana-walnut pancakes, and it was pretty darn divine.
“I brought you a new supply of hats.” Adele gestured toward my desk with her chin.
“Thanks. Christmas shopping is in full force already.” All kinds of diners browsed my cookware and gift-item shelves after they ate, more times than not leaving with one of my handled paper bags holding their purchases. I almost needed another employee for ringing up hats, honey, and hot plates. Last December I’d also sold custom packets of Mexican hot chocolate mix. That hadn’t worked out so well, unfortunately, what with the police confiscating them to check for poison. “And your hats are popular.”
“That’s dandy, then.” Adele slipped out of her coat and leaned back in the chair.
“Do you want to eat?” I popped in the last bite of sausage.
“I will, by and by. Me and my waist never say no to an early lunch.” She patted her solid midsection with a satisfied air.
“Adele, what do you know about James Franklin?”
She cocked her head. “What are you curious about Jamie for?”
“He was in for breakfast a couple hours ago. He seems to hate Toni Franklin, and almost broke down when he talked about how different her twin Kristina was.”
My aunt nodded like a wise old owl. “I had my suspicions about them two, Tina and young Franklin, back before she went away. You can pick up looks between lovers, don’t you know? Even if they weren’t together, weren’t touching or talking but were in the same place out in public, you could almost reach out and grab the electricity between them, they had that much of a spark.”
“But she was still married to the doctor.”
“That she was.”
“Did you think that was okay?” I asked.
“Plenty of South Lickites muttered about what a scandal it was. But hey, hon, you don’t live as long as I have without learning that everyone has their own ways of being. I don’t know what goes on in anybody’s private lives except my own, and that’s fine with me.”
That was my aunt, a portrait of tolerance. “Kristina had to be almost a decade older than Jamie, right?”
“So what?” Adele lifted a shoulder and dropped it. “Her sister went and married a geezer near old enough to be her grandpop.”
“Jamie mentioned that. Said she snagged him for his money.” I finished my Greek breakfast sandwich, every bit as delicious as I’d thought it would be.
“There was no shortage of affection between Toni and old Tug, mind you. But I think he was starting to lose his marbles. By the time he shuffled off this mortal coil he wasn’t the sharpest tool in the shed, if you get my drift.”
“Jamie claimed Toni might have killed her husband herself.”
“He’s n
ot the only one who says that. Maybe she slipped Tug a little something, maybe she didn’t. Don’t much matter. He was about gone, anyhoo. Fact is, he didn’t make no provision for his boy in his estate. Left his fortune to his wife and that was that.”
“Ouch. Did Jamie try to contest the will?”
Adele wrinkled her nose. “He surely did. But that Toni, she hired herself a hotshot lawyer. It was a legal signed will, witnessed and notarized. Jamie didn’t have a chance.”
“What does he do for work? Is he hurting for money?”
“He’s some kind of writer. I think he writes stories for newspapers and magazines. Like one of them freelancers.”
“Unless he’s written a major bestseller, I can’t imagine he’s rolling in dough with a job like that,” I said.
“No, indeedy.” Adele shook her head with a baleful look.
“He’s as much of an independent businessperson as I am. It isn’t always easy going it alone.” No wonder he was upset about his father leaving all his money to Toni and not even including Jamie.
Adele gave me one of her big auntie smiles. “You ain’t anywhere’s near alone, darlin’.”
“I know, and I’m glad of it.” I spied a woman at the cash register literally tapping her foot. Two red-handled rotary beaters and a cast-iron skillet sat on the counter. “Duty calls.” I stood. “What can I get you to eat?”
She glanced at the Specials board. “Still got the special?”
“I think so. Want that?”
“Please, Roberta. And a couple few slices of bacon, too.”
“Coming right up.” I hurried over to the impatient customer and rang up her items. I wrapped the skillet in blank newsprint, packed the beaters in its cavity, and slid it all into one of our larger bags. “Have a lovely holiday,” I said as I handed her the bag.
“Merry Christmas,” she said pointedly.
I gave her a smile. I was sticking with wishing customers happy holidays. Not everybody celebrated Christmas. Plus, today was only December third. I headed to the grill.
“Let me cook and you take a break,” I said to Danna.
“Sure, thanks.” She stripped off her dirty apron as she filled me in on the order status.