Candy Slain Murder

by Maddie Day

  Corrine came in from the kitchen and announced, “Soup’s on, gang. Come and eat.”

  We followed her into a surprisingly formal dining room. The wallpaper was a muted shade of red with a brocade pattern. She’d set the table with a white linen cloth, good china, crystal glasses, and cloth napkins under real silver. Chunks of crusty bread rested in a cloth-lined basket. A glass-fronted hutch set into the corner held more fine dishes and stemmed glasses, plus a few small framed pictures. The look was quite a contrast to the comfy country-decor appearance of the kitchen and den, the only other rooms I’d been in.

  “Corrine, this is lovely,” I said.

  She threw back her head and laughed. “You sound surprised, Robbie.”

  “Mom, you know how different the dining room looks from the rest of the house,” Danna said.

  “That it is.” Corrine smiled proudly. “My mama there taught me well. A woman needs a touch of elegance on a regular basis. This is my version.”

  Josie smiled and bobbed her head. “And you do it up nicely, Corrie.”

  Corrie? I’d never heard anyone use a nickname with Corrine. It must be her childhood moniker.

  “Thank you. Now set yourselves down.” She directed us to particular seats. “Dannie, help me serve it up.”

  Another nickname. Josie, Corrie, Dannie. I fit right in. Pretty soon they’d be calling Marcus Markie, I expected.

  A minute later steaming shallow bowls of beef stew sat in front of each of us, redolent with carrots, pearl onions, and bite-sized potatoes. Josie poured red wine all around except for Marcus and raised her glass.

  “To family,” she said.

  Marcus raised his glass of water. I echoed the toast along with the others and took a sip of a full-bodied red.

  “Corrine, this stew is really tasty,” Abe said.

  “Thanks. It’s pretty dang basic, but there’s nothing wrong with basic, even if you’re eating off the good dishes.” She smiled.

  “Marcus, I hear you’re in grad school,” Josie said. “What are you studying?”

  “Library science, ma’am. I’ve always been interested in information, and databases are like candy to me. I minored in computer science in college.”

  “So much of librarians’ work these days involves the Internet, doesn’t it?” Abe asked.

  “It does,” Marcus agreed.

  “I’m a retired software engineer.” Josie gazed at her grandson. “And now I have a consulting company doing the same. I’d say you came by that interest honestly, young man.”

  Marcus’s eyes widened. “That’s, uh, stunning.”

  “And he loves to cook, Josie, exactly like me,” Danna added.

  “Corrine, what did you do before you were elected mayor?” I asked. I realized I didn’t know much about her life before I moved to South Lick. I knew she had her own bluegrass band and she liked to go hunting. And she’d said she’d waitressed as a much younger woman, a fact she’d revealed when she helped out at Pans ’N Pancakes once during a crunch.

  “A little of this, a little of that. I can tell you the math thing skipped a generation. Even in high school algebra my eyes would glaze over.”

  Josie cleared her throat. “Getting your law degree isn’t a little bit of anything, darling.”

  “You’re a lawyer?” I asked. How hadn’t I known that? I glanced at Abe, who gave a little nod. He clearly was aware. “Do you have your own practice?”

  “I did. I’m pretty busy with the town now.” She sipped her wine. “Tell us about your family, Marcus.”

  He proceeded to relate that he had an older sister, also adopted, and twin younger brothers his mom had given birth to. He told us about his Quaker parents.

  “I’ve always admired the Society of Friends,” Abe said. “Their idea that God is in each of us really makes sense.”

  “I agree,” Marcus said. “And it leads to our values of equality, integrity, and nonviolence.”

  Our. It sounded like he still identified with the faith of his upbringing. Then I remembered Danna had mentioned that he drew from both Quakerism and Islam in his life.

  “Do you mind talking about why you converted to Islam?” Corrine asked.

  “Not at all. I visited the mosque in Bloomington two years ago with a friend. I can’t explain it, but I felt the presence of God there more strongly than I ever had in the Friends meeting I grew up in. I began to read and thought the values of Islam—put in a modern context, of course—made a lot of sense.”

  “Did your parents push back on your decision at all?” Josie asked.

  He laughed softly. “My grandfather asked Mom when I was going to join ISIS, but other than that, no. They raised us to make our own decisions.”

  Danna gazed at Corrine with fondness. “Just like this lady here did.”

  Corrine tossed her head. “To my regret at times.”

  “How do your parents feel about you connecting with your birth family?” Abe asked.

  This was turning into a Grill Marcus fest, but he didn’t seem to mind.

  “I think Mom is a little nervous, but they were both supportive when I told them I’d found you all.”

  “If she ever wants to meet me, I’d be thrilled,” Corrine said. “You tell her that for me.”

  “I will,” he said.

  “Marcus,” I began. “Can you tell me a little more about what Octavia asked you at the station?”

  Danna frowned at me. It was probably bad form to ask a question like that at such a joyous dinner, but it was out now. And I really wanted to know.

  “She wanted to know how I knew Toni. How I got along with her. Where I was this morning. Stuff like that. Apparently some nutso dude hates Muslims. I don’t even know him.” He shook his head.

  “Toni and you ate together, what was it, yesterday?” I asked. Marcus hadn’t been very happy about Toni taking a place at his table, either.

  “Yeah, but that was like the most social time I’ve ever spent with her,” Marcus said. “She actually wasn’t very friendly to me.”

  Danna was giving me a look, so I didn’t pursue the subject. But I’d bet Octavia was going to. What if Toni and Marcus had had a publicly witnessed argument? They might have had other dealings Marcus wasn’t letting on to. And if he had been alone during the time the police thought Toni was murdered, he might well be asked back for more questioning.

  We moved beyond Grill Marcus to other, lighter topics as we ate. Corrine downed the rest of her wine and opened another bottle. “Anyone?” She offered it around and poured for those who wanted it, but her hand shook a little. Danna cleared the stew bowls after we’d finished the main course, then tossed a green salad with a homemade vinaigrette and served it.

  After Corrine ate her greens, she stood. “Marcus, I have something for you. This is hard, but I need to do it.” She went to the hutch and drew out a framed picture and an envelope the same size. “This is your birth father.”

  Danna gaped. Josie nodded knowingly. Corrine handed the picture and envelope to Marcus. He was seated across from me, but I glimpsed a dark-skinned man with a rakish smile.

  Marcus gave a long look at the picture, then stood and hugged Corrine. “Thank you.” His voice was full of emotion.

  “You always said the guy in that photo was an old friend, Mom.” Danna’s voice brimmed with reproach. “You could have told me.”

  “I’m sorry, sweetheart. I couldn’t.” She touched Danna’s hand, then gazed at Marcus again. “His name was Charles Morton. He was a jazz musician, and a darn talented one.”

  Marcus’s eyes widened. “I played jazz trumpet in high school. Still do when I get a chance.”

  “Genes,” Abe murmured.

  “Where is he now?” Marcus asked softly.

  “I’m sorry to say he died in a plane crash before you were born. What with me being a foolish young thing—I hadn’t even gone to college yet—and him being gone, I didn’t feel I could give you a good life. That’s why I gave you up. But I never forgo
t you. Not once.” She took back the envelope and drew out a copy of the picture of Marcus’s birth father as well as a baby picture. “I made you a copy. And this is you at two days old. The last time I saw you.”

  Chapter Nineteen

  I was beating the pancake batter when Marcus followed Danna into the restaurant the next morning at six-thirty.

  “Hope you don’t mind, Robbie. Marcus spent the night at our house. Mom had to clear out early for a Rotary meeting, so I told him to come with me and get breakfast here.”

  “No problem,” I said. “Good morning to both of you.” The three of them, plus Josie, had a lot of getting to know each other to catch up on. Abe and I had gone home last night after a piece of chocolate cake, leaving the family still sitting around the table.

  “Thank you,” Marcus said. Despite his hair being damp, he again wore his Islamic cap. “Can I help with anything?”

  The man was polite, I had to give him that. “No, we’re a pretty well-greased machine by now, but thanks.”

  Danna pointed him to a chair, slipped into an apron, and scrubbed her hands. “Do we have a breakfast special?” She poured coffee for her and Marcus and took him a mug.

  “Ugh,” I said. “I forgot to plan one. Mocha muffins?”

  “Yum,” Danna said.

  “You could do peppermint mocha pretty easily,” Marcus piped up.

  I stared at him. “That’s kind of brilliant. We have a whole box of candy canes and peppermint flavoring, and of course we always have cocoa powder and chocolate chips. Let’s do it.” It was a perfect offering for heading into the Christmas season. If the muffins were popular, we could easily repeat the special weekly. I got a little tired of coming up with both breakfast and lunch specials every day.

  “Want to crush?” Danna asked Marcus.

  “Bring it.” He rose and came over to the sink to wash his hands. “I totally crush crushing.”

  Danna beamed at him.

  “Breakfast is on the house, but you’ll have to wait until we open,” I said.

  “No worries. I don’t have class until nine.” He smiled. “And thank you.”

  Danna handed him the box of candy canes, a rolling pin, and the waxed paper dispenser. She flipped to the page in our recipe binder with the mocha muffin recipe in its plastic sleeve and went to work. I continued with morning prep. I poured the pancake batter into the plastic pitcher we used to pour it out from. I washed the mixer bowl, attached the whisk, and set to work cracking eggs into the bowl.

  “That was a great dinner last night, Danna,” I said. “Please thank your mom for me.”

  “I will. I’m glad you and Abe could be there.” To Marcus she added, “They’re really like family to me.”

  “I could tell.” He finished breaking up the canes onto a sheet of waxed paper, laid another sheet on top, and went to work with the rolling pin, crunching away.

  “You can grind those in the food processor if you want,” I told him. “It might go faster.”

  “I’m good, thanks. I kind of like the Zen of it.”

  I itched to ask him more about his interview with Octavia but restrained myself. Even with three of us, we had to focus on getting ready.

  By the time I turned the sign on the door to OPEN at seven, the first batch of muffins were in the oven, two pans of biscuits sat ready in the warmer, and sausages and bacon were ready to serve. Buck came in so fast it was like he’d been leaning on the door. Marcus had finished his task and sat bent over his phone at the table closest to the grill.

  “Good morning, Buck,” I said.

  “Hey there, Robbie.” He hovered near the coatrack until I greeted the half dozen people who’d also been waiting.

  I invited them to sit anywhere and did the same with my B&B guests, who were making an early morning of it.

  Buck lowered his voice. “Sorry about Octavia yesterday. She shouldn’ta hauled poor Shirley out of here like she did. She’s feeling under considerable pressure with Toni’s death smack dab on top of finding her twin’s bones.”

  “I’m sure she is. Anyway, I told Octavia what she did was unacceptable. I mean, I know you have to question people.” I couldn’t help myself from glancing toward Marcus. “But there has to be a better way to ask them to come in.”

  “I know. Thing is, the chief thinks this case is hotter than a goat’s butt in a pepper patch.”

  “Geez, Buck.” I squeezed my eyes shut for a moment. “Did you have to put that image in my mind so early in the morning?”

  He chuckled. “Sorry. Phrases like that slip right out of my mouth like a greased porker . . . oh, you don’t want to hear that one, neither.”

  “No, I don’t think I do.” I smiled. “So, you’ve determined those were Kristina’s remains?”

  “Yep. Indeedy they were. The old dental records trick worked for us.”

  “That’s progress, at least. Now, you look hungry—for a change. Your favorite table’s waiting for you.” It occurred to me that Buck might know why Shirley didn’t leave town. I’d ask him later if I got a chance.

  Before he could head to his table, the door pushed open again, this time letting in William Geller and two other men. All three had blue medical scrubs showing below their winter coats. It must be surgery day in Columbus, at least for these doctors.

  “Mornin’, Geller,” Buck said. “Gentlemen.”

  William said, “Good morning, Lieutenant, Miss Jordan.”

  “There are plenty of tables open.” I gestured toward the restaurant. “I’ll be by in a minute to take your orders.”

  “Go ahead,” Geller said to his companions. “I need a word with the officer.” He had dark patches under his eyes and his skin was pale, but his voice was strong and his posture erect.

  The others moved on toward a four-top near the kitchen area. I probably should have gotten moving, too, except I wanted to hear this.

  Geller looked at me like he expected me to go. When I didn’t, he said, “Bird, update me on the progress you and your people have made on my wife’s remains and her sister’s murder.”

  “Don’t got much to say.” Buck cocked his head and lifted a bony shoulder in a fake-helpless gesture. “As I telled you yesterday afternoon, I’m not in charge of either investigation. You’re going to have to take and nail down Detective Slade for that.”

  “Fine.” Geller nearly spat out the word and turned on his heel.

  Danna gave me a frantic look. Customers needed coffee and wanted to order.

  “Huh.” Buck shook his head as he watched him go. “Man needs a little patience and some manners, too.”

  I agreed but didn’t say so. “I have to get to work, Buck.” I made a beeline for the coffeepot. I ran into trouble, instead.

  Geller stood glaring down at Marcus. “How are you walking around free?” he asked in a loud voice. “I told them a known terrorist was in town, a man who hated my sister-in-law.”

  “What? Who?” Marcus slammed his hands on the table and stood. “What are you talking about?”

  “Lieutenant,” Geller called over to Buck, pointing at Marcus with a shaking finger. “This, this, Arab needs to be locked up.”

  “You’re crazy, man.” Marcus narrowed his eyes and shook his head, his color high.

  Danna rushed to Marcus. “He’s not an Arab. He’s an American like you. He didn’t do anything wrong!”

  Bashir, whose skin was the same shade as Turner’s, narrowed his eyes at Geller.

  “It was his type who flew those planes.” Geller’s mouth turned down. “How can you let him walk free, Lieutenant? Who knows what else he and his kind are plotting?”

  Marcus leaned into Geller’s space and glared. “I’m not plotting anything. Are you?”

  Everyone in the restaurant stared. I took a deep breath and prepared to go do something to restore the peace. I wasn’t sure what, but I had a whole thirty seconds to figure it out.

  Instead, Buck ambled over to the two. “Doctor Geller, Mr. Vandemere, let’s all y�
�all relax, now. Doc, why don’t you go set yourself down with your friends and have a nice breakfast. This young fella here ain’t charged with no crime.”

  Whew. Leave it to Buck to defuse.

  “I’m not eating in the same room as this filth.” Geller turned his irate gaze on me. “And I’m never coming back.”

  He stumped out, leaving his fellow doctors. One looked bewildered, but the other raised his eyebrows and nodded once, as if Geller’s behavior didn’t surprise him. Marcus sank into his chair again. He set his forehead in his hand, staring at the table, breathing hard. Based on what Phil had said about Geller, his reaction to Marcus could be a combination of racism and anti-Islam sentiments. Marcus hadn’t exactly been a peacemaker, himself.

  I raised my voice and mustered a smile. “Sorry for the disturbance, everyone. I’ll be right by to get your orders.”

  A buzz of conversation arose. Danna sniffed the air and whirled, rescuing a nearly burnt rasher of bacon. The B&B couple, who sat at the table next to Marcus, whispered to each other with worried looks on their faces.

  Buck approached Marcus.

  “I might should have a word with you while you’re here, Vandemere, if you don’t mind.” He kept his voice gentle.

  Marcus gazed up, the look of fury still on his face. “He’s the one who accused me of murder, isn’t he? The reason the detective called me in yesterday?”

  “He is,” Buck said. “Name’s William Geller. Lost his sister in the nine-eleven attacks. Kinda been on the war path against Muslims ever since. Mind if I sit?”

  Marcus flipped open his palms, as if he knew he didn’t have a choice.

  “Excuse me, sir?” Tanesha said to Buck. “You’re an officer of the law, correct?”

  “That I am, ma’am. Lieutenant Bird, at your service.”

  “We practice the faith of Islam. Are we safe here?” she asked.