Berried Secrets

by Peg Cochran

  Monica had to ask, although she wasn’t sure she was going to like the answer. “When will the apartment be ready?”

  “A couple of weeks. They’re going to take out a few walls to give the space a more open-plan feel. And of course, the kitchen and bathrooms need to be completely redone.”

  Monica had been adding up days in her head. She switched to adding up months instead. If this renovation project was going to be like most, there would be delays, changes of plan, wrong measurements, and who knew how many other catastrophes.

  It looked like Gina was going to be around for a while.

  • • •

  Monica was up early the next morning and had the first batch of cranberry muffins in the oven before six A.M. She was surprised when Gina wandered into the kitchen as she was taking them out thirty minutes later.

  She was wearing jeans and a turtleneck sweater. Her hair hadn’t been combed, and she had no makeup on. It made her look strangely vulnerable.

  “Coffee?” Monica grabbed the pot from the warmer and held it out.

  Gina nodded.

  “You’re up early,” Monica said, pushing a mug across the table to Gina. “I hope you weren’t too uncomfortable last night.”

  Monica’s guest room, if it could even be called that, was strictly bare bones. If Gina had found the only room at the Inn unacceptable, Monica couldn’t imagine what she thought of these accommodations.

  “It was fine.” Gina yawned and took a sip of her coffee. “I’m up early because I’m meeting the contractor at seven thirty.”

  “Do you want anything to eat? I have some muffins hot from the oven.”

  Gina shook her head and yawned again. “I never eat breakfast. I can’t stand the thought of food before noon.”

  No wonder, Monica thought. Gina usually wasn’t up until noon.

  Gina took her coffee upstairs with her to finish dressing, and Monica cleaned up the kitchen.

  She packed up the muffins and as she added the salsa she’d made the evening before, she vowed that tonight she would get started on the product application for Fresh Gourmet.

  It was the kind of crisp, clear fall day that made Monica glad to be alive. She whistled under her breath as she walked the path to the farm store. She’d never been any good at carrying a tune, and she was glad there was no one around to hear her.

  Monica was approaching the store when she stopped whistling. Two people were dead. What right did she have to feel so upbeat?

  Darlene had arrived just ahead of her. She was hanging up a fleece jacket that was pilled around the collar and nearly worn through at the elbows. Monica knew Darlene didn’t have much, and she felt sorry for her. She smiled, trying to put a note of enthusiasm in her voice.

  “Good morning. Gorgeous day, isn’t it?” she said as she hung up her own jacket.

  “Yes. I suppose so.” Darlene straightened her glasses. “I thought it was a little chilly myself.”

  Some people would always be glass half empty, Monica thought.

  The store was no longer as busy as it had been right after Culbert’s murder, when sensation seekers had come to satisfy their curiosity, even making road trips from as far as two and three hours away.

  Monica stowed the salsa in the refrigerated cabinet, noting that there were two containers left from yesterday. She bit her lower lip. The brisk sales they’d experienced had been nice, even if they had come at the expense of Sam Culbert’s life.

  Darlene wriggled her way behind the counter, and when she turned toward Monica, Monica noticed she had tears in her eyes.

  “What’s wrong?” She put a hand on Darlene’s arm. “Has something happened?”

  “It’s just that I’m missing my mother.” Darlene took off her glasses and dashed a hand across her eyes. “She would have made me that special cake I liked today—German chocolate cake. I know it’s not traditional for birthdays, but she knew it was my favorite.” She gave a loud sniff and wiped her nose on her sleeve.

  “It’s your birthday?”

  Darlene nodded.

  “I didn’t know. I’m so sorry. Happy birthday.” Monica smiled. “Do you have anything special planned?” She realized, as soon as the words were out of her mouth, that it was the wrong thing to say.

  Darlene gulped back a sob and shook her head. “There’s no one to celebrate with now.”

  “Your friends . . . ?”

  Darlene scowled. “I don’t have any friends. I mean, I know a couple of girls who were in my youth group from church, but not all that well.”

  “You should throw yourself a birthday party!” Monica declared. “Invite some of those girls to go out to dinner with you. It would be fun.”

  Darlene scowled again. “I can’t afford to go out for dinner. I get my lunch once a week at the diner, and that’s it.”

  The door opened and a customer walked in. Monica was relieved that the interruption put an end to such an uncomfortable conversation. She felt sorry for Darlene, she really did. But on the other hand, she also wanted to shake her.

  She decided that as soon as she could, she would run into town and pick up a little something to give Darlene as a present. Maybe that would cheer her up.

  • • •

  Shortly after ten A.M. Monica decided it was safe to leave the store in Darlene’s hands. They’d only had half a dozen customers, and it didn’t seem likely they would get much busier.

  She untied the cranberry-themed apron she wore behind the counter. She’d insisted Darlene wear one as well, although Darlene had protested at first. But the aprons gave them a uniform look and kept their clothes clean.

  “I’m heading into town to run some errands. Is there anything I can get you?”

  “Maybe.” Darlene reached for her purse and pulled out her wallet. She counted out some singles one by one, the tip of her tongue caught between her teeth and her brow furrowed as if the exercise were a particularly challenging one. “Here.” She handed the stack of bills to Monica. “I should have enough there for a hamburger and a pop from the diner. It is my birthday,” she added somewhat belligerently.

  “What do you want on your burger?” Monica asked as she stuffed the money into the pocket of her pants.

  Darlene looked heavenward as if searching for inspiration. “Mustard, ketchup, mayo, lettuce and tomato and onion.” She pursed her lips. “And if there’s enough there,” she pointed to Monica’s pocket, “can you bring me a cola?”

  Great, Monica thought. Now Darlene would be breathing onion fumes all over the customers all afternoon. She patted her pocket. She had already decided that she would treat Darlene to lunch and give her the money back. She nodded. “Got it. A cola.”

  The sun made the interior of Monica’s car toasty, but when she cracked a window, the brisk edge to the wind was a reminder that September was almost over.

  There were few cars parked along Beach Hollow Road when Monica got there. The town was generally quiet this early in the week, with traffic building as it got closer to the weekend. Tourists would be arriving in earnest again now that the leaves were changing, and Monica planned to get most of her errands done before that happened.

  There was a space in front of Book ’Em and, without thinking, Monica pulled into it. Was she hoping to run into Greg? Yes. Why not? As Gina said, Ted had been gone long enough, and it was time for her to live again. Monica glanced at her left ring finger. Upon moving to Cranberry Cove she’d put her engagement ring in a safe deposit box at the bank. The slight indention that had circled her finger had filled in, and it was no longer obvious that there had been a ring on that hand.

  She got out of the Focus and beeped the door locked. She couldn’t resist pausing in front of the window of Book ’Em. Greg had arranged a display of classic English mysteries—books by Josephine Tey, Dorothy Sayers, Agatha Christie, Patricia Wentworth and Ngaio Marsh. Mon
ica remembered reading many of the titles herself.

  A movement beyond the display caught her eye, and she saw Greg beckoning for her to come in.

  A bell over the front door tinkled melodically as Monica pushed it open.

  “This is a pleasant way to start the week,” Greg said with a smile.

  Monica returned his smile. “I came into town to run a few errands.”

  “I won’t keep you . . . much as I’d like to.”

  Greg edged his way around the counter. “I wanted to give you this.” He handed Monica a piece of paper. “We’re starting a mystery book club here at Book ’Em,” he said, gesturing to the flyer. “I thought you might be interested. We’ll begin in a couple of weeks.”

  “I think I would like that very much.”

  Greg accompanied Monica outside and waved as she walked away.

  “See you soon,” he called after her.

  The wind grabbed the edges of Monica’s jacket as she walked out of Book ’Em. She stopped to pull up the zipper and fish her gloves out of her pocket. As usual, tantalizing smells wafted out from the Cranberry Cove Diner next door. Monica wondered if the air in front of the diner didn’t permanently smell of frying bacon. She would go back for Darlene’s lunch order once she’d picked out a gift.

  She stood on the sidewalk for a moment, enjoying the warmth of the sun on her face. What to get Darlene? She glanced back at Book ’Em, but she didn’t know what kinds of books Darlene liked. Or if she even read at all. So many people didn’t these days.

  She started walking—past Twilight, where an elaborate display of tarot cards was set up in the window. She doubted she’d find anything for Darlene in there. She continued on and hesitated briefly in front of Danielle’s Boutique. The usual swimsuits and fancy cover-ups in the window had given way to hand-knit-looking fishermen’s sweaters, an exclusive brand of all-weather jackets and a colorful array of silk scarves. All to tempt the tourists on color tours and the ones who would arrive at Christmastime to admire the charming decorations. Monica doubted there was much of anything in the store that she could afford or that would suit Darlene.

  Next was Gumdrops. She stopped in front of the store. Perhaps a selection of candy would make a nice gift.

  Hennie came rushing forward as Monica pushed open the door.

  “Lovely to see you, dear.”

  Hennie smoothed down her sage green cable-knit sweater. Monica wondered if the VanVelsen sisters’ wardrobe changed color with the seasons.

  “I need a gift for someone,” Monica said, peering into one of the cases. She looked up at Hennie. “It’s for Darlene who works in the farm store.”

  “Darlene Polk?” Hennie sniffed. “I doubt that girl will ever make anything of her life. Her mother’s fault, you know. She babied her. While all the other kids in town worked at summer jobs, she sat around reading romance novels.” Hennie sniffed again. “Putting notions into her head that she didn’t need—waiting for Prince Charming to come riding down Beach Hollow Road on a white horse, no doubt.”

  “I do feel sorry for her though,” Monica said. “Losing her mother. She doesn’t seem to have any other relatives or even any friends.”

  Hennie nodded curtly. “I know. It is a sad case. Her mother passed way too young. She had the sugar, you know. Diabetes. Never did take proper care of herself. It led to her heart attack, I heard.”

  Monica smiled. She doubted there was much of anything that happened in Cranberry Cove that Hennie and Gerda didn’t hear.

  “Now what should you get for your gift?” Hennie furrowed her brow and pursed her lips. “Chocolate is always good. We have De Heer chocolate bars—milk chocolate and dark.” She pointed to a selection of candy bars in orange wrappers in the glass case. “Or the Verkade milk chocolate.”

  Monica peered into the glass. The candy bars were arranged with near military precision, and she suppressed a smile.

  “Of course there are always the Droste pastilles.” Hennie gestured toward the pyramid of colored boxes. “It’s a shame Droste doesn’t make their chocolate orange balls anymore. Of course they didn’t come out until the holidays. We used to get them in our stockings at Christmastime.”

  “I think the pastilles are a wonderful idea. The boxes are so pretty and colorful. Perhaps a selection?”

  “Excellent choice.” Hennie beamed at her like a teacher regarding an exceptionally bright pupil. “We do have a box of assorted flavors.” Hennie pointed to a stack on the shelf behind the counter. “That way you get some of each, and the box makes a lovely presentation.”

  “Perfect. I’ll take one of those.”

  “Would you like me to wrap it, dear?”

  “If you wouldn’t mind.”

  “Not at all. It would be my pleasure.”

  Hennie turned to a roll of wrapping paper behind the counter and tore off a piece.

  Monica heard the beaded curtain to the stockroom move and glanced over to see Gerda entering. She had been wondering where Hennie’s twin was. She couldn’t recall ever having seen one without the other.

  “So lovely to see you,” Gerda said when she noticed Monica. “Have you come for some of your peppermints?”

  “Not this time.” Monica pointed to the box Hennie was wrapping. “I needed a gift for someone.”

  “That Darlene Polk,” Hennie said over her shoulder. “You remember her, don’t you?”

  “Of course. She used to come in every week with her allowance to pick out something. Odd girl.” Gerda shook her head.

  Monica looked down to see a glossy black cat weaving its way in and out of Gerda’s legs.

  “Midnight’s come back!” Monica exclaimed.

  “Yes.” Gerda swooped the sleek black cat up in her arms. Midnight looked less than pleased about being held captive. Her long tail swished back and forth impatiently.

  “Where was she? Where did you find her?”

  “We didn’t exactly find her ourselves,” Hennie said, brandishing the beautifully wrapped package. “A young man brought her back.”

  Gerda nodded. “Imagine that! He found her in a deserted barn outside of town. How she got there, we’ll never know. It’s a good five miles away.”

  Hennie put the box of chocolates in a Gumdrops bag and set it on the counter. “Someone took her, I’ll bet, and then let her loose out there. We’ve had threats before, you know. Just because poor Midnight doesn’t have a smidge of fur on her that isn’t black.”

  “That’s horrible.” Monica fished in her purse for her wallet. “Do you think the fellow that brought her back is the one who took her? Maybe he felt guilty?”

  “Oh, no,” Gerda said as Midnight jumped down from her arms and went to take up a position in the sunbeam slanting through the front door. “He was terribly kind and most concerned.”

  “He said he saw some of Gerda’s posters around town. That’s how he knew where to bring our precious baby.”

  They all glanced in Midnight’s direction. The cat preened and began to groom her front paw.

  “Did you know this fellow?” Monica asked. There wasn’t anyone in Cranberry Cove that the VanVelsens didn’t know.

  Hennie leaned her arms on the counter. “No. We’d never met him before. But he reminded me of that young man you were asking about a couple of days ago.”

  “Yes. The foreign-looking one with the dark hair,” Gerda said.

  “Mauricio?”

  “Yes,” the sisters chorused. “That was his name.”

  “When was this?” Monica asked with a sinking feeling.

  “Yesterday.”

  “You don’t happen to remember what time do you?”

  “Must have been near a quarter after five,” Hennie said. “We were getting ready to go home. I was counting out the register while Gerda swept the front steps. You should have heard her scream when she saw
the young man walking towards her with Midnight in his arms.”

  “I didn’t scream,” Gerda said huffily.

  Hennie ignored her.

  “How long did he stay?” If the sisters found Monica’s questions odd, they were much too polite to say.

  “We invited him to dinner,” Gerda answered. “We were so thrilled that he’d brought our Midnight back.”

  “He looked like he could use a good meal,” Hennie added, taking the twenty-dollar bill Monica handed her. “I think he may have been roughing it out in that barn.”

  “So he got here at around five fifteen and went home with you for dinner?”

  “Yes.” Hennie handed Monica her change. “We’d made a big pot of erwtensoep, so there was plenty.”

  Monica must have looked confused because Hennie added, “Pea soup.”

  “So Mauricio was with you from five fifteen until . . .”

  “After seven, I would say, wouldn’t you, Gerda?”

  “Oh, yes. Jeopardy was just coming on as he was leaving.”

  “It’s our favorite show,” Hennie explained.

  “But you must see our surprise,” Gerda said, clapping her hands. She gestured for Monica to follow her into the stockroom.

  Midnight rose from her spot in the sun and scooted past them, her tail twitching and swishing briskly in the air.

  The stockroom was every bit as neat and organized as the front of the shop, which didn’t surprise Monica in the least. Gerda took her arm and led her over to a large cardboard box.

  Midnight leapt over the side of the box and curled up in the corner, giving them all a disapproving look.

  Monica peered into the box. “Oh!” was all she could say.

  “Aren’t they darling?” Gerda bent and stroked one of the tiny kittens. “This one looks just like Midnight.” She pointed to a black kitten sleeping in the corner.

  “So Midnight was pregnant!”

  “Yes, we had no idea. Thank goodness that young man found them. With the weather getting colder . . .” Gerda shivered.