by Kate Bell
“What?” she asked when we didn’t answer her.
“No, they do not have Allie McSwain’s desserts. And Allie has a reputation around here for her desserts,” Alec said. “They’ll be back.”
Cynthia looked at me. I guess I still looked worried because Alec’s words didn’t seem to comfort her. “Allie?” she said.
I sighed. “They have the best French desserts I’ve ever tasted.”
She stared at me. “Seriously?” she finally asked.
I nodded. “But like Alec said. People around here aren’t going to be able to eat there on a regular basis. They were very expensive.”
She looked from me to Alec and back again. “Let’s hope that holds true.”
She had no idea how hard I was hoping.
Chapter Six
I was debating with myself over my dessert choices for the restaurant on the way over to Meg Cranston’s house. Had I gone wrong somehow? Maybe I needed to stick with the same two desserts for an entire week. Maybe switching what I was making every day was confusing to people. If I committed to one cake and one pie and made them every day for a week, people would know what to expect. The regulars could try one of each on each visit.
We pulled up to Meg Cranston’s house and Alec parked out front. The house was cute. It was painted a light gray with black trim around the windows and white wooden shutters. The neighborhood was quiet and the blinds drawn on the Cranston home. I didn’t know anything about the Cranston’s and I wondered if there were children. Spencer Cranston was in his early forties and the possibility of children at home was pretty good.
“Ready?” Alec asked, pulling me from my thoughts.
I nodded, and opened the car door and got out. The weather had grown colder overnight and the sidewalk was icy. My boot slipped a little and I put my hands out to steady myself. “Whoa,” I said.
“You okay?” Alec asked, arriving at my side.
“Yup, just a little slippery,” I answered. “So do you know anything new about the Cranston’s?”
“Not really. Stuart South spoke with Meg Cranston yesterday afternoon, and asked her to identify the body. She seemed shocked but didn’t have much to offer as far as who might have killed her husband. She did say she thought Jenna Maples was having an affair with her husband, but admitted she didn’t have a lot of definite proof there really was an affair,” he said in a lowered tone, steadying me as we headed up the walkway to the front door. I looked up in time to see the window shades move aside a little, then fall back.
“Someone’s watching,” I whispered.
Alec knocked on the door and we waited.
The door swung open and a woman that looked younger than I expected stood in front of us. She had dark red hair in a pixie cut and her green eyes looked red and tired.
“Meg Cranston?” Alec asked. He hadn’t had the opportunity to meet her in person. He was going to so that after he’d watched her husband the morning that he died.
She nodded and looked from Alec to me, and back.
Alec introduced us and she gave him a tight-lipped smile. “It’s good to meet you,” she said.
“May we come in?” Alec asked when she didn’t immediately ask us in.
“Of course, I’m sorry.” She led us into the living room. “Officer South said you would be by. Can I get you tea or coffee?” she asked.
“Tea,” I said before Alec could say “No thank you.” I wanted an excuse to hang around and talk to Meg Cranston.
“Have a seat and I’ll be right back,” she said, and left us alone.
“We don’t need tea,” Alec hissed.
“I’m thirsty,” I whispered. I sat next to Alec on the sofa and took in every detail of the living room.
The living room was done in a modern style with tailored chocolate brown sofas and beige walls. The furniture had clean lines and appeared to be perfectly placed in the living room to bring out the best balance. I wished my living room looked as put together as Meg’s did.
“Lovely décor,” I whispered. There was a lack of family photos in the room and I wondered about it. The room was almost too neat and tidy, almost like no one lived in it.
“Sure,” he replied absently and pulled out his pen and notebook.
Meg reappeared much faster than I had expected, carrying a floral patterned tray set up with tea and all the accouterments.
“Here we are,” Meg said quietly. She set the tray down on the coffee table and I picked up a teacup.
“Thank you so much,” I said. “We wanted to express our condolences on the loss of your husband.”
“Thank you,” she murmured and looked away. She sat on the loveseat across from Alec and I, without helping herself to any tea.
“Mrs. Cranston, I know we spoke briefly on the phone when you hired me to follow your husband, but I’m afraid we didn’t get into very much detail. You said you thought he was having an affair with Jenna Maples, but you didn’t elaborate. Can you tell me what you know?” Alec asked, sitting back on the sofa.
She looked at Alec. “I don’t know much more than I already told you. He wasn’t coming home from work on time. I heard him talking to someone on the phone. More than once. When I asked him about it, he didn’t want to talk about it. He just clammed up. Of course I was suspicious. Who wouldn’t be?”
“I see,” Alec said, making notes in his notebook.
“How did you know who it was?” I asked, pouring myself some tea.
She looked at me and narrowed her eyes.
“I found a file on Spencer’s computer. It had a picture of her and her address,” she said. Her eyes welled up with tears. “She was young and she looked like a model. I guess he was done with me.”
“May I see that file?” Alec asked.
“Sure,” she got up and headed out of the room.
“Did I make her angry?” I whispered to Alec. “She gave me a look.”
Alec shrugged. “You never know what’s going through someone’s mind when they’re grieving. You should know that.”
“I know, I know,” I muttered.
She was back after a few minutes. “It’s not here. It’s the laptop that he always has on his desk in the office. I looked in there and in the bedroom, but it’s not here.” There was a look of panic in her eyes and I wondered what else was on that computer.
“Maybe he had it in his car,” I suggested. It was possible they hadn’t mentioned finding it yet. Certainly the police would go over that car with a fine tooth comb and if it was there, they would find it.
She shook her head. “I don’t think so. He had a work computer that he took with him. This was an old one that he used for personal things like paying bills. He never took it anywhere.”
“Perhaps it had something on it that he needed for work,” Alec suggested.
She shook her head. “No, I’m sure he never took it anywhere. I swear it was here very recently. I remember seeing it.”
“Hopefully it will turn up,” Alec said.
“Meg, how long have you lived in Sandy Harbor?” I asked.
“Six months. We moved here late last summer because of Spencer’s job. If it were up to me, I would never have moved here. All this snow. I hate snow. I hate Maine.”
“It does take some adjustment.” I gave her a friendly smile. She was starting to become agitated. “What kind of work did Spencer do?”
“Software development,” she said. “I hate that company. They were always requiring us to move at a moment’s notice. I told him to look for another job, but oh no, he wouldn’t do it.”
“What kind of software?” Alec asked.
She shrugged. “How would I know? I can’t think of anything more boring than computers and software development. Sometimes he would talk about it, but to be honest, I tuned him out. I’m just not interested in computers.”
“When was the last time you saw your husband?” he asked.
“The evening before he died. He frequently left the house to go to the gym at
4:00 a.m. I felt him get out of bed, but I didn’t check the time. I just drifted off to sleep again.”
“Do you have children?” I asked.
“A son. He’s in college,” she said. “I should have left my husband three years ago when he had that first affair. First. Sure, it was probably one of many.” Her face turned red as she talked and she wrung a tissue in her hands.
“Your husband had an affair?” I asked.
She nodded and looked away. “He said it was a brief fling, but who really knows? Once I found out he lied to me, I stopped believing anything he said.”
“Do you know who would want to kill your husband?” Alec asked.
She turned on him. “Well, don’t you think it was his girlfriend? She obviously wanted him to leave me. He made good money at that miserable company and I’m sure she wanted in on that. Or maybe she got mad at him over his work hours. He always put in a lot of hours. But maybe that was all a lie and he was with his girlfriend the whole time. I’m sure it had to be her.” Tears welled up in her eyes as she spoke and my heart went out to her.
Alec made more notes. “Have you ever met Jenna Maples?” he asked.
She snorted. “No, I’ve never met her. He would never allow that. I’m sure he did everything he could to keep us apart. Isn’t that what cheaters do?”
“Will you be staying in Sandy Harbor, Meg?” I asked, changing the subject.
“What? No! Why would I do that? I don’t care about this stupid town. I’m moving back to Florida where I belong. Where the weather’s nice and warm year round. I hate this place. I can’t wait to get back,” she said, looking down at the tissue in her hands.
“It can be hard moving to a new town,” I said, nodding my head. “I struggled when I moved from Alabama years ago.”
“I hate this place. If Spencer hadn’t died, I’m sure I would have moved back home anyway. I don’t belong here. I’m—I’m glad he’s—” she said and her face went pale.
“Glad he’s what?” I asked.
She looked at me, and slowly shook her head. “It wasn’t a good marriage. You don’t know what I’ve been through.” She was quiet now and looked down again. After a moment, she looked up at me. “You have to understand that I loved him regardless of what he did. He didn’t deserve my love, but I loved him anyway.”
I nodded. Her eyes shone with unshed tears.
“Is there anything else you can think of that might be helpful? Anything at all?” Alec asked.
“No. Nothing,” she said. “But I’ll tell you something. If the police don’t arrest that woman, I’ll take matters into my own hands.” She gave Alec a steely-eyed look and pressed her lips together. I thought she just might make good on her promise.
“Mrs. Cranston, the police are doing everything in their power to bring your husband’s killer to justice. It wouldn’t be wise to take matters into your own hands. I can’t warn you strongly enough how foolish that would be,” Alec advised.
The look on Alec’s face said he meant business. It wasn’t one I had seen often, but I recognized it and I hoped Meg Cranston was taking note of it.
Meg returned his look. I had enough faith in Alec to know he could handle any situation, but Meg wasn’t backing down. There was an air about her that said she was a no nonsense sort of person. If she said something, she did it.
“Just make sure you find the killer and put her away. Quickly,” she added after a few moments of silence.
Alec gave her a hard look. “Thank you for your time, Mrs. Cranston. If you think of anything else, will you please give me a call?”
“Yes, of course,” she said and stood up with us.
“We appreciate your time,” I said, sounding way too chipper for the situation. She saw us to the door without another word.
When the door closed behind us, I leaned over to Alec and whispered. “Wow. What do you think?”
“I think we have our work cut out for us,” he whispered back.
Indeed we did.
Chapter Seven
It was time to do some investigative work that didn’t involve dead bodies. Another day had come and gone and instead of people scarfing down my delectable desserts at Henry’s, I had to bring home all the chocolate spritz cookies and more than half of the coconut cream pies I had made. I didn’t understand it. I had advertised on my blog that my recipes could be tried out locally and even took out an ad in the local newspaper. But the desserts sat untouched all day and then I had to face the shame of bringing them home. Nothing was sadder than unwanted desserts. Didn’t everyone love sweets? It made no sense to me.
So I did what every red blooded sweets loving American woman would do in a time of crisis. I decided we were going to sample the competition’s desserts and figure out a plan to beat them at their own game.
“We’re going to Le Chemise for lunch," I announced to Alec.
He was working on my leaky kitchen faucet, with his sleeves rolled up past his elbows.
“What? Today?” he asked, looking up at me.
I nodded and leaned against the doorframe. “We need to get to the bottom of my unsellable desserts.”
He sighed. “Your desserts are not unsellable. Personally, I love everything you make. Le Chemise is still just so new, and people are just enthralled at the chance to get to try something different.”
“Maybe so. But they’re expensive, too, and I can’t believe many people have the money to eat there regularly. It’s a special occasion restaurant, not an everyday restaurant.”
“True. But like said before, I think it’s a combination of being too cold to go out and the few that are going out, are stopping by Le Chemise to try it. Once they’ve tried the place out, they’ll be back at Henry’s,” he said, tightening the faucet handle with a pair of pliers. “I don’t know why you’re still worrying about this.”
I sighed. “I hope so. But I still want to stop by and see what’s going on.”
“Will I have time to go home and change into something fancier?” he asked, turning the faucet on. “That’s another disadvantage Le Chemise has over Henry’s. People feel the need to dress up for such a fancy restaurant, and in Sandy Harbor, people don’t dress up much.”
“I know. Let’s hope there are more strikes against them, otherwise, I’m in trouble,” I said, trying to keep the sadness out of my voice. This wasn’t how I had envisioned my new business. I was so sure people would swarm to Henry’s for a chance to try out my new recipes. But it seemed people couldn’t be bothered.
I couldn’t be unhappy with the way my blog was going, however. After Alec had pointed out my lack of blog entries, I had added nine in the past three days. I was amazed at how much that helped increase the traffic. I was getting positive comments now and I was thrilled every time someone commented they had tried my recipes and loved them. It meant a lot to me that my recipes were both tasty and easy for others to replicate in their own kitchens. I just had to figure out this thing with the desserts not selling at Henry’s.
“There you go. Good as new,” Alec said, unrolling his shirtsleeves. “We can stop by my apartment on the way over to Le Chemise and I can put on a nicer shirt.”
“No. Let’s not. Let’s show up dressed just the way we are. After all, if some fancy French restaurant is planning on doing long term business in this little town, they need to get used to the fact that we don’t dress fancy around here much,” I said.
Alec thought about it a moment, then shrugged. “Okay, sounds good.”
***
It was almost 12:15 when we arrived at Le Chemise. The place was packed and it looked like we might have to wait. I sighed with disappointment. Not at the wait, but at the fact that so many people were here.
As we waited in line, Alec turned to me. “I’m a little surprised, to tell you the truth,” he whispered.
“Me too,” I answered. “This doesn’t look good.”
I stood on tiptoes to see if I recognized anyone. Sure enough, I did. Anne and Ralph Mitchel
from down the street were sitting at a booth. Ellen Allen and her mother, Ann Marie Cuathy were at a table. I gasped when I saw Mr. Winters. The traitor. He frequented Henry’s and just the other day had complimented me on my banana cream pie.
I was thinking slow service might be Le Chemise’s undoing when a maître d’ showed up to take us to our requested booth. Darn. Even when they were packed, they had great service.
We sat down and looked the menu over.
“Hey,” I said, not looking up from my menu.
“What?” Alec asked.
“They lowered the prices.”
“So they did,” he said. “Maybe they’re the lunch specials. Lots of restaurants have lower priced lunch menus. The food they serve here has got to be expensive to prepare though. Everything tastes so fresh.”
My stomach growled as I looked over the menu. Everything sounded good. “I’m going to try the Tarte Flambe’,” I said.
“And for dessert?” he asked, eyeing me.
“You know me so well. I think I’m going for something simple like an éclair,” I answered and laid my menu down on the table. “Let’s see if the classically French dessert is also authentic here.”
“I don’t think you have any reason to doubt,” he said, going back to his menu.
“Hey, Allie! Fancy meeting you here!” Lucy said, sliding in next to me on the booth seat. “Hey, Alec.”
I scooted over for her. “What are you doing here?” I asked.
“Oh, you know. It’s a new restaurant. Ed and I wanted to try it out,” she said.
Ed wandered over before I could ask where he was. “Hi, Ed,” I said.
He nodded. “What brings you two out here?”
“I guess the same thing that brought you two out,” I said, giving him a smile. Ed was the silent, introspective type. Some people thought him odd, but I had always liked his direct, quiet manner.
“Sit down, Ed, we’ll eat with them,” Lucy said, picking up my menu and looking it over. “They have the best Steak Diane here.”
I looked at Alec, raising my eyebrows to signal him to move over. He scooted over, looking uncomfortable squeezed up against the wall. I gave him a smile.