I didn’t even consider that she’d used a cliché because it seemed to fit what she was trying to say so perfectly. She glanced toward the counter and her face took on a stern look. Rex had just come in and was talking to Irma. As he glanced toward his mother, he didn’t look happy. Jeanne reached across the table and put her hand on mine. ‘I can’t wait to see what you put together.’ Then, after saying she’d send somebody over with a container for the cake, she pushed away from the table and marched toward the counter, gesturing that they should go upstairs to the office area.
I decided to give it a couple of minutes to see if someone did show up with a container, and it gave me a chance to look over my notes again and finish the coffee. Since I’d only had one cup at Zooey’s, by now I was more than ready for another.
I was reading over my notes when I sensed someone standing next to the table. I absently picked up the plate of cake as if to hand it to them before looking up.
‘If you’re offering, I’ll take it,’ Lewis said. I pulled my hand back with a laugh.
‘No way am I giving up a piece of this legendary cake,’ I said before explaining I was waiting for a container. Something seemed different about him as I looked him over.
He noticed my puzzled expression. ‘It’s the clothes,’ he said, showing off his tracksuit. ‘I got a last-minute call this morning to take over for the coach at St Mel’s.’ He reminded me that he was a substitute gym teacher, which covered acting as a coach, too. ‘I just picked up lunch for Emily and me,’ he said, holding up the bag.
He started to walk away and then turned back. ‘Aunt Laurel seemed to be in a better mood than I’ve seen her in a while when she came back from your walk. I don’t know what you talked about, but if she said anything about that boyfriend of hers, please don’t repeat it to anyone.’ He checked the area to see if anyone was in earshot. ‘She doesn’t know it, but the guy’s dead. There’s nothing to connect him to her and it’s better to leave it that way.’
He waited until I agreed and then, before I could ask him anything like how he knew Ted was dead, he was on his way out the door.
No one brought the container for the cake and eventually I got one myself. It had been quite a morning.
TWENTY-ONE
I spent the walk home thinking about meeting Jeanne LaPorte and how she had offered a different feeling about the place. She was the heart of the endeavor and looked at it as being an extension of their home. Rex was all about business.
I’d heard enough from Jeanne and Irma to read between the lines that Jeanne wasn’t happy about being sidelined. Rex had presented himself as being in total charge of the business. Irma, too, had made it sound like he did a lot when his father died, but Jeanne still saw herself as the boss. I could only imagine the battle going on between them after I’d left. Personally, I was relieved that Jeanne seemed happy with what I’d been hired for. The work for LaPorte’s was the biggest job I had and I would have hated to lose it.
I was already reframing how I was going to handle the background story. I just needed an opening line. Somehow, when I had that, the rest of it seemed to fall into place.
I had the same issue with the backstory for Handelman’s Children’s Shoes. I regretted that I hadn’t managed to get some more about the beginnings of the place from Laurel, but she’d gotten sidetracked with telling me about Ted. Of course, I hadn’t realized that was who she was talking about until she’d got to the end and mentioned the letters. I’d paid attention when she was telling how they met and such, but not the way I would have if I’d known who she was talking about. I tried to remember what she’d said, but mostly I was left with sort of an overview. It appeared he’d wooed her to get his hands on her money. She seemed hurt, and also angry at herself for falling for him. Maybe she’d realized she should have been wary since he was younger than she was. What she’d said about Lewis stuck in my mind. He was protective of her and he’d met Ted. For a moment my mind wandered away from thoughts about what had happened to Ted to the concept of having family who were protective of you.
It was something I knew nothing about. I was an only child with parents who’d been only children themselves, which meant no aunts, uncles or cousins. With my parents gone I was really alone in the world. So, now I was a single woman with a cat, living alone with her memories, slightly stuck in her ways, not much fun, who had no one watching her back.
Rocky came to the door when I got home. He seemed to pick up on my mood and stuck with me as I went into my office. When I sat down at the computer, he jumped in my lap and went into full cuddle mode, leaning against my shoulder and hugging me with his paws.
‘Thanks, I needed that,’ I said to the cat. ‘And in case you’re wondering, I’m absolutely watching your back.’ As I said it, I ran my hand along his back and he began to purr so loudly he seemed to rumble.
I pulled out my notebook, intending to transcribe everything into its right file. I opened the LaPorte’s file first, intending to put in the descriptions of the latest things I’d tasted while it was fresh in my mind. Somehow I thought I’d taken more extensive notes, but really they read more like a list of ingredients with a few buzzwords thrown in. I put my hands on the keys prepared to type, but I hit a snag. It should have been quick and easy, the point was to make word sketches of the taste of each menu item, but I found myself agonizing over every word. I called it word constipation and I needed something to free up the flow. A walk often worked, but I’d been out enough. I considered other options. If I hadn’t had so little tolerance to alcohol that a mere sip gave me an uncomfortable buzz, I would have considered taking a hit of the cooking wine. It seemed like a writerly thing to do, but would have hindered me more than helped. I thought about crocheting. Wasn’t that kind of like taking a walk with my fingers? It was certainly rhythmic and meditative. I had a number of squares I was working on, but I couldn’t really let my mind go. I had to be sure not to lose or gain a stitch at the end of the row and pay attention to the pattern of stitches. All that really mattered now was that my hook kept moving to release my block. I found some leftover yarn and grabbed the first hook I saw. I made a long chain as a foundation and then turned back on it doing single crochet stitches. Since it wasn’t a particular project, I didn’t have to measure the length or worry about gaining or losing stitches. As my hook moved, my shoulders relaxed and my mind cleared, and after a few minutes I felt the words ready to move out.
I looked down at the snake of stitches which, even with such little regard, had turned out quite nicely. Amazed that I hadn’t thought of this before, I stashed the whole thing in a dark corner of my desk.
I smiled to myself as the first salad became sweet spheres of fresh mozzarella coupled with bite-size hunks of vine-ripened tomatoes flavored with a splash of balsamic vinegar-based dressing.
Even though the chocolate mint cake was their signature item, it had only been described as chocolate mint cake with white buttercream icing. I flipped open the container with the slice that Jeanne had given me and broke off a piece that had both cake and frosting. As soon as I tasted it, I was reminded of birthday parties, pink dresses and happy times in my life. Just as Jeanne had said, their cakes were connected to happy moments. Wasn’t all that really part of the taste? And so I wrote: the legendary cake that started it all. With a perfect undertone of mint, the dense chocolate cake is complemented by the buttery white frosting evoking memories of birthday parties and smiles.
I went back to thinking about the wall montage and looked at the photos I’d taken, hoping they’d inspire me to come up with the opening line.
When I finally took a break, I texted Sara to ask how Quentin’s father was and to offer my services if needed. I’d barely hit send when there was a knock at the door. I opened it and Sara was standing in the doorway dressed in her mom wear of leggings and a big T-shirt with a blob of something orange on it. ‘I hope you’re not disappointed that it isn’t Ben,’ she said.
I shook my head as an an
swer and invited her in. Was I disappointed that it wasn’t Ben? I had gotten used to talking over the whole Ted thing with him, so maybe I was. Not that I would ever let on to Sara.
I started to offer her some of my cooking wine, but all I had to say was would you like … and she was nodding yes.
‘Quentin just got home,’ she began. ‘All that’s going on with his father made him want to get closer to Mikey. I couldn’t agree more, particularly if it gives me a few minutes off. He and his sister spent the day at the hospital and I got to stay home with Mikey.’ She let out a tired sigh and held up the shirt showing off the orange blob. ‘Thought it would be fun to finger-paint. Mikey was more into throwing the paint.’ I asked her about Quentin’s father and she said they were still evaluating whether to do surgery. ‘I’m sorry for the guy, even though he doesn’t like me.’ She made a face. ‘He thought Quentin should have married Suzy Blake whose father owns a car dealership.’ She settled on the couch just where Ben always sat while I went to get the wine. I mentioned that it seemed like the family seating arrangement when I handed her the glass of wine and she laughed. ‘Yeah, it’s in our genes that we like sitting in the center of the couch.’ She took a healthy drag of the wine. I’d gone fancy and added a slice of lemon to my sparkling water.
She wanted to talk about anything but kids and I told her about Zooey and my trip to LaPorte’s. She was very interested in hearing about Jeanne’s visit to the place. ‘It’s got to be hard having all those family members working together.’
‘Sometimes it works,’ I said, thinking of the Handelmans. They seemed to get along and look out for each other. I described their situation to Sara, though I didn’t repeat anything Laurel had said as she had requested. ‘I’m fascinated by the whole family dynamic. It seems pretty nice, but then I probably have a romanticized view of it since I’m looking from the outside.’ I adjusted my glass. ‘You and Ben seem to look out for each other. How many times has he come over this week?’
‘Yes, my brother always comes through when I need anything. It helps that he loves Mikey.’ She put her wine glass down and faced me. ‘I’m sorry for trying to push you together with him. Until you told me how he acted the other night, I had no idea he was that messed up from the divorce. I just want him to be happy. I appreciate that you didn’t take it personally and push him out of the writing group and such. And for the record, you might be right about the friend thing working this time.’ She took another sip. ‘I’m not sure if it helps, but I look at you as family. I guess that’s why I kept hoping there’d be something more than friends with Ben.’
I got up and gave her a hug. ‘The best family are the people you pick to be part of it.’
‘Good one,’ Sara said. ‘Now that we’ve gotten past the mushy stuff, is there anything new about that too-charming client of yours who got killed?’
‘If you mean, have I figured out who killed him – no. But I did find out more about him and how somebody could have gotten in,’ I said.
She shuddered when I told her about the key left in the umbrella spokes and then shrugged. ‘I guess it’s pretty common to leave a spare key hidden somewhere.’
‘I’d thought of leaving one in the boots I leave in the hall,’ I said. ‘But since you have one to my place, I didn’t.’
‘Good,’ she said. ‘I’m taking my spare key from under the mat and giving it to you.’ Her cell pinged and we looked at each other knowingly. Quentin had run out of patience.
The interruption turned out to be a blessing because when I went back to the computer, I had the first line I was looking for. It all started with a birthday cake …
I was off and running after that and lost track of time. I’d missed the sunset, dinner time and even the late news. I made myself a bowl of soup and a grilled cheese sandwich and called it dinner just before I went to bed.
Zooey kept the coffee place open on Saturdays, but just for the morning. There were a few classes and she wanted to have a consistent presence even if it was barely worth her while. What she really needed was to grab some of the neighborhood people I passed who used the campus as a spot for their exercise walks. I was going to be sorry when this assignment was over. It got me out of the house early and her coffee was much better than mine.
There were just three people clustered around the stand when I came in. She acknowledged me with a wave and I grabbed one of the stools at the far end of the counter.
‘Hey there,’ she said, joining me when she was done with her customers. I handed the descriptions of the two drinks from the day before. Writing about the coffee blends was pretty redundant. I did make a point to mention how smooth her brews were and that they all contained Zooey’s Fairy Dust, which is what I’d named her secret ingredient. The Lost in the Fog tea drink was another matter. The flavors were more obvious and I described them as a symphony of English breakfast tea, frothed milk with a hint of sweetness.
She read them over and nodded with approval. ‘These are great.’ She set them aside. ‘Let’s see what we have for you today.’ She looked over the list of coffees. ‘There’s just one medium roast left and a few dark roasts,’ she said. She set the mugs up and the filters. I used the opportunity to get some more information for her story. I took a few notes as she told me about working for a couple of coffee places while she was an undergrad. When I had the two mugs of coffee for the day’s tasting, she sat down with her own mug of brew.
‘Anything new with the investigation of that guy in your building?’ I asked, trying to sound casual.
‘I think the cops have been around some more.’ She let out an annoyed sigh. ‘The manager of the building has gone nuts. Every day she’s sending out another notice. Today’s was that anyone having someone stay at their place for more than a week has to check with her. I heard she’s in trouble with the building’s owners. I heard it all from Rita.’ She took a moment to explain who Rita was in case I didn’t remember her from a few days ago. I tried to look as if I really needed my memory refreshed. ‘What makes it even worse is that the cops keep talking to Lois because she was with Rita when they found Ted.’ She looked toward the door as a couple came in. ‘I thought when that guy died it would be the end of the problem, but even dead he’s causing trouble.’ She got up and went around the counter as the couple approached and I went back to my tasting while thinking about what she’d said.
I had forgotten that Lois was with Rita when Ted’s body was discovered. I thought about trying to get more information from Zooey, but why not get it directly? Why not talk to Lois? I finished the first mug and noted that it had a mellow nutty flavor meant to be sipped and savored. All I needed was a few sips of the French roast to write that it had a smooth smoky flavor. I was probably overusing smooth and I was using it to say not bitter, but the fact was that none of the coffees I’d tasted had any harshness to the taste. Whatever she put in the Fairy Dust, it seemed to work.
I had finished the second mug and was getting up to leave when she finished with the couple. They’d both ordered Chocodelites.
Zooey reminded me she was closed on Sunday. ‘We can finish up the coffees on Monday,’ she said, picking up my mug and putting it in her table-top dishwasher.
I was pretty buzzed from the coffee and as I walked out on to the street a plan was forming that would get me access to Lois. Since Zooey was likely to be around on Sunday and might blow my cover, I wanted to do it now.
I created my backstory as I walked to the red-brick building. I was so deep in thought, I didn’t remember walking there. I had no memory of crossing any streets and I hoped in my trance state that I’d looked for traffic.
I put on a purposeful air and walked into the lobby and checked for the doorbell marked office. There was no instant buzz to the security door unlocking it, but a voice crackled through the intercom offering assistance, which was a nice way of asking what I wanted. Without missing a beat, I launched into my story. I had a friend who was interested in moving into the neighborhood and
I was checking apartments for him.
Lois came to the security door and looked me over through the windows on the side of it. I smiled at the tall woman with a boyish figure. I must have met her approval because she opened the door and invited me in.
She introduced herself as we walked back to her office, which was a small room across from the building lounge. I gave her my name and said I lived in the area, as I glanced around the interior trying to get a sense of who she was to help me make conversation. Most of her desk was taken up with a computer. The only picture on her desk was of her with a long-haired Siamese cat. A bunch of pens were stuck in a mug shaped like a cat.
She offered me a chair adjacent to her desk. ‘What size place was your friend interested in?’ she asked, sitting down in front of the computer. The ‘friend’ was Ben. It was easier to make up answers when I had a real person in mind. I hoped that Ben wouldn’t mind that I was using him as the model for my ‘friend’.
I had no idea what his real living arrangements were, but I imagined that he’d probably be fine with a one bedroom on a lower floor. The cop in him would want to be able to make an easy exit in an emergency. As soon as I gave her his supposed requirements, she started typing in on the computer. She also started asking questions.
‘Who exactly would be living there?’ she asked in a pointed voice. I already had an idea why she was asking, based on what Zooey had said about the note being sent around.
‘Just him,’ I said.
‘Then you won’t be staying with him?’ she asked, turning to look at me directly.
‘You mean like overnight?’ I asked.
‘Overnight is not a problem. I meant like moving in with him.’
I pretended to be embarrassed by her question. ‘I think your question is a little intrusive. I don’t know where this relationship is going, but he should be able to have who he pleases in his own place.’ I waited a beat before continuing. ‘I heard there was an incident in this building. Is that why you’re asking all these questions?’
Writing a Wrong Page 18