Gwen looked at him in what appeared to be fond amusement. “Maybe so,” she said. “I’m sure you at least heard the argument.”
He nodded. “It shook up everything. I even wondered whether the people I was checking in would turn around and flee. We didn’t know what it was about at the time, and it was quick. Later, when Myra came back our way, she gave her usual instructions. We were not to discuss, even among ourselves, what we may have heard. It no longer existed. Not being the greatest direction-follower, I did initially attempt to get some info about it, but everyone else had been intimidated enough to follow what she said.” He looked down at Gwen. “I still heard rumors. And I think I’ve only convinced Gwen to give you details now because Myra’s not around to follow through on her threats.”
Gwen’s smile toward him looked fond. “I agree that there won’t be consequences now that Myra can’t instigate them.” Then her expression morphed to something more troubled. “But—oh my, Carrie. What I’ve told you—you’re running with it, aren’t you? Are you jumping on the possibility that Chef Manfred was the killer—or trying to protect yourself by trying to make him look like the top suspect?”
I liked Gwen. She seemed like an intelligent, intuitive woman who could aspire to doing a lot more with her life if she decided to move on from being a restaurant server. If she had a relationship with Neal, that could be a very good thing for my smart but sometimes mentally lazy brother.
I shrugged one shoulder. “I’m still looking into all possibilities. And I’m not making any accusations. Not yet, at least. Even so—” Did I dare ask her opinion about whether Manfred could have been angry enough to do something drastic to Myra?
She seemed to hear my unspoken question. “You know, Carrie,” she said thoughtfully, pursing her shining lips as she looked at me, “I like Manfred, despite his egotism. If I had to hazard a guess, sure, he could have wanted to get back at Myra. But in my opinion, he’d do something more subtle—like sabotage one of her parties. He wouldn’t have had a chance to gloat if he’d simply murdered her.” She put her hand up to her mouth, and I noticed that her short but well-shaped nails were as glossed as her lips. “Sorry. That sounds horrible.”
“But helpful.” I leaned toward her and gestured for Neal to come closer too. “I appreciate your information and advice, Gwen. And if you happen to have any other ideas about people who might have disliked Myra and had no need for subtlety if they decided to deal with her, I’d appreciate your letting me know. I’m already looking into other family members, by the way.”
“That would be my first thought,” Gwen said. “Did you tell your sister about Myra and Walt Hainner?” She looked at Neal.
“You knew about that?” I asked.
At the same time my brother said, “Then my suspicions were true?”
I laughed softly. Gwen could be a real asset in my investigation into who could have killed Myra.
Briefly, a thought came into my mind. Could she herself have had something against the resort’s big boss—something stronger than her concern about getting fired? She might have been smart enough and subtle enough to resolve it and direct attention to others—like me.
Then I erased that thought. No way. I was just so eager to plant the blame on someone else that I was jumping to absurd conclusions.
Even so … well, I would have a talk with Chef Manfred Indor to get my own ideas about his possible guilt.
And I might just continue to run ideas by Gwen—not only to get her thoughts about them, but also to see her reaction.
NINETEEN
TIME TO HEAD BACK to my shops. I said bye to Gwen and saw her hurry into the restaurant as I walked through the lobby with Neal.
“I like her,” I said. “She’s nice, and she seems smart. And pretty.” I didn’t look at him but waited for his response.
“Yeah, all of those.” My brother was moseying beside me in the crowd, either wanting to talk more or not eager to return to work. Or both. “But there’s a guy in her life and I don’t get it. He lives in Riverside and they don’t seem to get together much.” He stopped, and when I looked at him he shrugged. “Could be he’s just an excuse. It might be obvious to her that I’m interested, but it’s not obvious to me that she’s not. Interested in me, I mean. She seems to like me, but—Hell.”
He turned and started walking again, edging through the
people in the lobby toward his post.
Interesting, I thought. Despite having told me before that there was nothing between them other than having fun, my fancy-free, sometimes irresponsible brother seemed to have a genuine romantic interest in this woman—one that might not be reciprocated.
Still, he could be trying to win her attention. That would explain his working here so diligently lately. Although he mostly worked at the reception desk, along with leading some of the official resort tours, Neal also ran some unofficial tours on his own. If he didn’t have enough vacation time available for this, he’d call in sick. But I knew there hadn’t been many outings at the resort recently, nor had Neal had any of his own. And since he was clearly not happy about it, I couldn’t believe he’d arranged it just to see more of Gwen.
As I watched, Neil returned to his post behind the reception desk and started talking to another of the employees. He lifted his hand to wave at me, but he clearly was finished with our conversation. Which was fine with me—for now.
But later …
I hurried into the parking lot, gulped when I paid to release my car, and headed for the vet clinic to pick up Biscuit.
Even that didn’t turn out as to be easy as I’d hoped. Oh, my adorable dog was fine and clearly happy to see me. But before I could leave Faye said, “Dr. Storme wanted to talk to you. He said I should have him paged once you got here.”
“I’ll go into the clinic and find him,” I said. “Thanks.” I swallowed my smile. I’d be glad to see him too.
But my pleasure turned out to be premature.
Reed exited a care room as Biscuit and I walked down the hall. His pace was quick and determined, and he stopped as soon as he saw me.
“Glad you’re here, Carrie. I was going to call you if I didn’t see you. We have several unanticipated surgeries scheduled for tomorrow and not enough assistants. I know you’re supposed to be off, but could you come in for a few hours?”
I swallowed hard, especially since his stare looked demanding and not particularly friendly. This wasn’t the Reed I thought I was getting to know. But it was apparently his stress talking.
And my stress? A few hours? A short while, yes, but so long? “I … I don’t think so,” I said sadly. Biscuit, who’d started to lie down at my feet, was suddenly standing at attention beside me. She was a sweet, intuitive dog, and she clearly sensed the tension here. “I’ll see what I can work out, but—”
“Okay. Fine. But don’t be surprised if we—”
Arvie was suddenly with us. “Now, don’t make threats we’ve no intention of keeping, Dr. Storme.” But my sudden relief and urge to hug Arvie were dispelled by his next words. “We’re already looking for another tech or two to hire, but we’re not going to make any changes in Carrie’s situation here.”
That was especially sweet of him, since he had an interest in having my shops do well and my being there instead of here might help that. Still … another tech or two? My part-time services could become even more part-time then. It had been my own choice to open my new retail venture, but the idea of less pay, and even less time working at a job I really loved …
Well, I’d asked for it. But I really wanted it all—and a treasured part of my life might be taken away from me.
It might anyway, I reminded myself. It was worse—much worse—that I was considered a murder suspect.
I looked at my beloved senior mentor and smiled. “Thanks, Arvie,” I said, as one of my tech coworkers walked by and glanced quizzically toward us. I waved without really looking at him. I instead looked from Arvie to Reed and back again. “As I sa
id, I’ll see if I can work anything out for tomorrow. I do have an couple of assistants lined up to help at my stores but haven’t required either of them to work alone much.” And I didn’t have someone else lined up who could come in and help, if necessary.
“I like your stores, Carrie,” Reed said. “Don’t get me wrong. But I think you’re going to have to make a choice.”
“We’ll see,” Arvie said. “But that’s in the future. Right now, please just let us know as soon as you can about tomorrow, and I’ll also see who else around here might be able to help out. Now, I’ve a kitty waiting for me down the hall so I’ve got to go. Give us a call if you can help, Carrie.”
“Okay.”
I watched Arvie stride down the hall, then looked again at Reed. Had I been mistaken about his interest in me as something other than an assistant here on the job?
Maybe not. His expression was softer now. “Sorry, Carrie. I was out of line, but a couple of those surgeries tomorrow are mine and I’m concerned that all the right details be in place before I perform them.”
So he considered me a “right detail”? That didn’t make me feel much better. “I understand,” I said, attempting to make my assertion feel true. “Anyway, like I said, I’ll see what I can do. But—”
“But yes, I know, your new venture has priority in your life.”
But so do the animals here, I thought.
And, perhaps, Reed … ?
A man holding one of the patients walked down the hall, a welcome interruption. I pulled my gaze from Reed’s deep brown eyes and said, “I’ll talk to you soon.” And then Biscuit and I left.
Now what could I do?
Well, the first thing was to go back to the shops that had helped to cause this crisis in my vet tech career.
I drove Biscuit and myself there slowly as my mind cranked around possibilities. Maybe it was already time for me to hire another assistant at the shops, but how could I afford it? Go full-time again as a vet tech to pay for extra staff and let my helpers run my new, fun, potentially exciting venture? I didn’t think so.
I parked in back and took Biscuit around the side of the building to enter the door into the Barkery. There were no customers, and after hitching Biscuit to her crate I went into Icing. Also empty. But both Judy and Dinah entered from the kitchen.
“Sorry for not coming into the Barkery,” Dinah said, “but we knew it was you since we saw you park out back.”
I nodded. “No problem. And at the moment it’s probably a good thing that it’s empty. I have a problem, and I hope you can help me with it.”
I got a cup of coffee from our urn at the back of Icing, then explained my dilemma to my assistants, who both regarded me with concerned expressions. “I realize that when you agreed to stagger your weekdays working here you assumed I’d be around most of the time—that I’d keep my hours at the veterinary clinic to a minimum. But they need me tomorrow.” I looked at Judy. “Are you okay being in charge of both shops yourself for potentially a couple of stretches of more than an hour or so each?”
“No problem at all,” Judy said. “I think we’re both getting used to our dual duties here, and keeping an eye on two small shops at a time—well, I’m up for it. How about you, Dinah, if Carrie’s schedule at the clinic is heavy like that?”
Dinah was fine with it too. A huge weight lifted from my shoulders. “I can’t thank you both enough,” I said. “And as time goes on and we’re as successful as I’m sure we’ll be, I’ll give you raises and add some more help.” Even though neither one had encouraged my hiring someone additional, I suspected they both would agree if I made that decision.
We engaged in a brief hug fest that lasted only a minute, since we heard the bell on the Barkery’s door ring. I headed toward the other shop.
I enjoyed waiting on the customer who’d just come in, another local whose dog I knew from the clinic. I smiled and laughed a lot as I sold her several kinds of treats for her little schnauzer. I felt so darned good. This was all going to work, and work well. I even heard the bell on Icing’s door ring while I was busy.
When the customer left, I gave Biscuit a huge hug, then walked back into Icing to thank my wonderful assistants yet again and to say good night, since it was nearly closing time.
They still had a few customers, so for the next ten minutes I stayed busy there, too.
When we again heard the bell go off on the Barkery side, I began wondering if this system would work in the long run—but was grateful when both Dinah and Judy headed for that shop.
My Icing customers finally left, so I was able to close up there, then headed into the Barkery to relieve my assistants and finish that shop’s business for the day too.
But as I walked in, I stopped so abruptly I was nearly hit by the closing door.
Dinah was there, behind the display case, helping just one customer.
That customer was Detective Bridget Morana.
I suddenly felt ill. After discussing their varying work schedules with my sweet and accommodating assistants, my mood had morphed into relief. Happiness, even. I’d potentially resolved, for now at least, a major concern in my life. Was that just a fantasy on my part, a bandage over an issue that was comparatively minor while I gushed blood from a much more vital area?
Okay, maybe that was a bit too ugly and graphic a metaphor, but I was worried. Was I about to be hauled off to jail for a murder I hadn’t committed? In fact, the only time I could probably be motivated to kill someone was if they majorly threatened my closest family—Neal or Biscuit—and even then I’d only do it if it would save my loved ones from harm.
But, hey, I’d had a relatively painless session with Bridget’s partner Wayne that morning. Maybe they were playing tag team, trying to unnerve me by showing up individually and seeing if, in fear, I blurted out the evidence they needed to haul me in. Wayne had even indicated he’d hoped I’d spout out a confession.
Not going to happen.
I forced myself to smile and drew closer to my good buddy Bridget.
“Well hello, Detective,” I gushed. “How nice to see you. Do you happen to have a dog as well as your delightful cat?”
“No, I actually just hoped to catch you before you closed and figured I was more likely to see you in your dog bakery than the people side.” Her tone and demeanor were friendly, not accusatory, and I didn’t trust them, or her, one bit. Today she wore a beige knit shirt over khaki slacks, and, with her light brown hair, she could easily disappear into a crowd and be able to study whatever subject she chose without being noticed. But as I’d seen before, her bushy brows were raised in an ironic arch that dimmed my idea of her easily blending in.
“Guess you were right.” I was proud of myself. I still sounded amazingly friendly, though I wanted to yell at her, throw her out, ask what she really wanted …
But I didn’t need to ask the latter. She answered it for me. “I’m glad you’re still open. I wanted to buy some people-cookies from you. I’m having a few friends over tonight and want to give them a special treat.”
Was she trying by flattery to get me to relax? Once again, that wasn’t going to happen—though I might allow her to think otherwise. “Well, thanks. I’m flattered that you’d like some of my cookies. Icing on the Cake is actually closed now, but come next door anyway and pick out what you want.”
Leaving Biscuit there, I ushered Bridget through the door between the shops. Judy, who’d probably gone into the kitchen before, was now in Icing, rearranging things in our display case for the night.
“What would you like?” I asked after leading the detective to the glassed-in front of our display.
Bridget looked at me for a long moment, and I could just guess what she was thinking: Oh, how about a murder confession? Or, failing that, a slip of the tongue that’ll lead me to the same result?
Instead, she turned to study our baked goods. “How about a dozen of those great-looking sugar cookies. Better yet, make it half a dozen of them and half a
dozen chocolate chip.”
“Of course. Judy, could you pack them for us?” I aimed my false, overly happy grin at my assistant. I saw her startled expression, but she turned away quickly and began to do as I asked.
“Anything else I can help you with, Detective?” I asked in a tone as sweet as the cookies I was about to sell her.
“I can’t think of anything, can you?” Bridget regarded me intensely, with the penetrating expression I’d seen before, though her tone too was light.
“Nope, but please come back anytime to buy some of our treats.” That hurt like a knife stuck into my palm, but I figured it needed to be said to keep her, hopefully, from coming back. Ever.
But her response was, “Of course. In fact, I think I’ll be back here a lot, Carrie. Thank you.”
With that, she paid the bill in the amount Judy quoted and left.
“Are you okay?” my assistant asked when she was gone. “It’s time for us to leave, but if you need some help now or anything, I’ll be glad to stay.”
“Me too,” said Dinah, from the doorway.
I had to take a deep breath to be able to answer. “No, but thank you both. You’ve done more than enough for me by being so wonderfully flexible about your hours. I’ll see you here on Tuesday morning, Dinah.”
“You definitely will, Carrie.” Dinah went back through the kitchen door.
“Are you sure you’re okay?” Judy asked when she was gone.
“Absolutely,” I replied as brightly as I could muster.
“Guess I’ll go now too.”
“Great. See you tomorrow morning. I’ll lock up the Barkery, and Biscuit and I also will go home now.”
When Judy disappeared through the kitchen door I found myself clutching the end of the display case as if I’d collapse otherwise. Then I stood, straightened my shoulders, and went in to check that Icing’s front door was locked. Heading into the Barkery, I locked its door too, and gave Biscuit a huge hug.
Bite the Biscuit (A Barkery & Biscuits Mystery) Page 17