“Yes, I hear you’re having quite a gathering at your place.”
“Yes, I am,” I glowered.
“We’ve been busy with pre-Thanksgiving sales. Let me see what I can do for you.” Then he reached for his store microphone. “Todd, would you please report to the frozen bread aisle to assist a customer,” he requested over the PA system.
I almost reached out a hand to stop him when I heard him call the name of my cousin, Todd. You see, Todd is a pimple-faced greasy-haired jerk whom I try like the dickens to avoid every time I come into the store. Now I was going to have to endure having Todd “assist” me in frozen foods. I wheeled my wagon back to the frozen food aisle with little hope of satisfaction.
“Yes, can I help you?” Todd said pleasantly enough as he approached, though he refused to acknowledge knowing me.
“Yes, you’re out of frozen dinner rolls,” I pointed out.
“I know. A lady just bought a whole wagon full.”
“I know that. I was here when she did it. Now I need dinner rolls and there aren’t any left,” I replied, trying not to sound as peeved as I was.
“So? What do you want me to do about it?”
“Could you look in the back and see if you have any more?”
“We don’t have any more.”
“How could you possibly know that?”
“Trust me, I know. We don’t have any more.”
“Would you please check anyway?”
Todd rolled his eyes at me before releasing a heavy sigh and sauntering away to check in the back of the store for my much needed dinner rolls. Meanwhile, I felt myself growing more agitated with every passing minute. Eventually, Todd returned carrying two more packages of rolls. They were slightly smashed.
“It turned out we had two more packages. They were stuffed in the back of the freezer. They must have fallen off their storage tray.”
“I’ll take them,” I said, snatching them from his grasp and tossing them into the wagon between Blue’s paws.
I turned and wheeled my pathetic cache to the cash register, paid, and left The Market in a huff. It was another quick ride home as I took out my frustrations on the pedals of my trike. Now all I had to do was explain the new Thanksgiving dinner plans to Alex.
When I made it home, I found a note from Alex propped up using the salt shaker on the kitchen table.
Had to head out of town on business. Couldn’t reach you on your cell phone. I’ll be back tomorrow night in time for Thanksgiving.
Love you
Alex
I retrieved my cell phone from my pocket and found that it was still switched off. I had three messages. I considered calling Alex and explaining the new Thanksgiving dinner plans, but remembered how he hated to be disturbed while away on a case. I decided it would just have to be a surprise.
That night I had dinner rolls for supper, both the regular and whole wheat kind. I ate them slathered in butter. They were wonderfully warm and flaky.
Chapter 7
I sat in my car across the street from Nathaniel Evans’ apartment waiting for him to appear. I’d left Blue at home, since she doesn’t enjoy riding in the car, and I already missed her. I was beginning to get bored when Mr. Evans finally showed himself. Walking down the stairs from his apartment, he beeped his Lexus in the parking lot and climbed behind the wheel. He then started his car, backed out of his parking space, and pulled onto Bay Street right in front of me. I started my own car and pulled smoothly away from the curb, following at a discreet distance.
As I drove I tried to imagine what the Chief would say if he knew how I’d chosen to use my forced leave of absence. All things considered, he might have even threatened to fire me. In any case, I was sure that he wouldn’t approve of me continuing to pursue the Daniel Evans case, even if it was on my own time.
Coming to a stop sign, I slowed and pulled to a halt behind Evans’ Lexus. I was pleased to find that he either didn’t notice me or didn’t recognize me as he made a right turn onto Ranchero Boulevard. I waited at the stop sign for the distance between us to grow and then followed. Mr. Evans led me on a merry chase across town before pulling onto the state highway and driving into the woods to a remote gated community known as Eagle Rock. There he entered the gate code and drove through up a winding road. I pulled up to the gate and entered the code for the first name on the registry. I received no answer, so I tried another at random.
“Hello, who is it?” a voice asked through the speaker.
“United Parcel Service,” I announced.
The speaker emitted an extended beep and the gate swung open. I drove through and up the winding road in the direction that Evans had gone. The road split into a one way loop. I was expecting to have a hard time finding Evans’ car, so I was surprised when I saw it parked in a driveway halfway around the loop. I pulled to the curb and waited. I noticed a sign on the front of the house next to the address. It said “Evans.” I hadn’t heard of Nathaniel Evans having a home in the country, so I assumed that it was family. Sticking with that assumption, I saw an elderly woman step out front to water the lawn that I took to be Nathan’s mother. I waited in my car, crouching down in my seat in the hope of remaining unnoticed.
The woman began watering her flower planters with a garden hose. She still had chrysanthemums. Some minutes later, a young boy came running out of the house holding a toy airplane over his head. The boy was Daniel Evans. And just like that the case had been solved. Mr. Evans followed the boy out of the house. I sat up straight in my seat and then let myself out of my car. I was halfway across the lawn when I was noticed by the elderly woman.
“Hello, can I help you?” the woman said in a suspicious tone.
“Mrs. Evans?” I asked.
“Yes.”
“You,” was all that Mr. Evans said, but there was something threatening in the way he said it.
“My name is Chloe Boston. I’m a meter maid with the Hope Falls police department. I’ve been looking for your missing grandson, Daniel Evans. Would I be correct in assuming that I’ve found him?”
“A meter maid?” Mrs. Evans replied.
“Yes, the entire department has been mobilized to look for a missing, kidnapped, or dead child.”
Daniel stopped playing with his airplane and looked up to me in confusion. Then he looked back to his father with questioning eyes.
“Hello, Daniel,” I said, softening my voice.
“Hello,” the boy replied sheepishly.
“I want you off this property right now!” Mr. Evans growled, charging forward.
The way in which Nathan Evans was advancing gave me concern for my wellbeing. I decided to back off rather than continue to force the issue.
“Of course, sir,” I replied, backing away to the curb.
When I made it to the street, I pulled my cell phone from my pocket and speed dialed the Chief’s personal number. The Chief answered on the third ring.
“Yes, what is it, Boston?” the Chief barked.
“I’m standing in the street in front of Nathaniel Evans’ mother’s home in Eagle Rock watching Daniel Evans play on her front lawn,”
That’s as far as I made it before the phone was torn from my hand by Daniel’s irate father.
“Hey, give me back my phone,” I protested pointlessly.
Mr. Evans placed the phone to his ear and listened for a few seconds. He then reared back and cast my phone deep into the woods across the street. I watched it fly, trying to get a general sense for where it landed, then turned back to Evans fully expecting to have to defend myself. And it looked as if Evans had every intension of striking out, but then he was stopped by a terse word from his mother.
“Nathan, stop what you’re doing this instant!”
Nathan stopped what he was doing, but he didn’t stop moving. Turning, he scooped Daniel into his arms and ran with him for his car parked in the driveway.
“Nathan, stop!” his mother called, but to no avail.
Nathan opene
d the passenger door of his car and deposited his son in the seat. Then he raced around to the driver’s side and got in. After starting the engine, he burned rubber backing out of the driveway and did the same speeding away down the road. Mrs. Evans and I could do nothing but stand and watch as Nathan Evans went on the run.
“I thought I was helping him,” Mrs. Evans tried to explain before starting to sob.
I paused for a moment, trying to think of something comforting to say, but nothing came.
“Please wait here, Mrs. Evans, for the police to arrive.”
The old woman nodded her head. Meanwhile, I struck off into the woods in search of my phone. I probably would never have found it if it hadn’t kept ringing. Plucking it out of a tangle of what I was sure must be poison oak, given the way my day had been, I pressed Talk and put the phone to my ear.
“Boston, where have you been?” the Chief asked.
“Nathaniel Evans is on the run, sir,” I announced. “He’s driving a silver Lexus…”
“Yes, yes. We have the make and model of his car,” the Chief interrupted. “Are you alright?”
“I’m fine,” I assured him.
“Wait for me at the Evans home. We’re on our way.”
With that, the Chief signed off and I walked back to the Evans home to stand with Mrs. Evans on the front lawn. She continued to cry but looked up at my approach.
“He’s not a bad man, you know,” she informed me in a choked voice.
“I’m sure he isn’t.”
“It’s just that he just loves his son so much and was afraid he was going to lose him.”
“His wife loves her son too,” I challenged. “And reporting a fake crime is illegal.”
Mrs. Evans began crying all the harder.
It took almost half an hour before the Chief arrived with Gordon glued to his side. He had me relate everything that had happened that morning, only asking a few questions while I talked. When I was done, he told me I could leave.
“You mean we’re not going to arrest her?” Gordon wanted to know.
“Give it a rest, Gordon,” the Chief replied.
They took Mrs. Evans inside her house to question her and I climbed into my car and left. I was expecting Blue to be happy to see me when I got home. As it turned out, Blue had had plenty of company in my absence since Tara Lee and company had descended upon my property like a swarm of locusts. I had my suspicions that things weren’t right when I drove past all the trucks parked in the street. I was sure that things were terribly wrong when I reached out a hand to stick my key in the lock only to have the door opened for me by Tara Lee herself.
“Chloe, at last, you’re home,” she announced.
“Tara Lee? What are you doing in my house?”
“What? You think it takes a professional burglar to break into this cracker box?” She laughed gaily.
Not yet prepared to deal with her, I brushed her aside and stepped into the living room on my way to the bedroom to get changed. The first thing I noticed was the plastic runners covering my carpet in all directions. I stopped dead in my tracks when I then noticed that all my furniture was gone. I turned to face Tara Lee with my mouth agape in astonishment.
“Before you start yelling at me, you must agree that it was necessary to accommodate your guests,” Tara Lee said. “Your home would have simply been too crowded with the furniture still in it. And heaven knows what state it would be in after having untold numbers of people spilling food on it.”
“Where is it?”
“Your furniture is all safe and sound in a storage locker at the edge of town.”
Oh yeah, would that be the one the arsonist tried to burn down last Valentine’s Day? I thought.
“You moved my furniture.”
“Yes, dear.”
“All of it?”
“We left your bedroom and Alex’s office untouched. Your mother insisted.”
I took another glance around the room wondering where the cats were or if she had moved them too. They would probably prefer a nice quiet storage locker to the madness unfolding here.
“It still isn’t big enough for everyone to sit down for dinner,” I challenged.
“Don’t you remember? Your guests will be dining outside.”
“What if it rains?”
“But, darling, that’s what the tent is for.”
Oh yeah, the tent. I’d forgotten about the tent. I rushed out back to find that my pumpkin planter boxes had been obliterated. In their place, a crew was rolling out a huge white tent in preparation for raising it. Looking further, I saw that they had dismantled the fence separating the two yards. The tent was apparently to span the backyards of the two properties.
“I don’t believe it,” I said to no one in particular. “You’re terraforming my backyard. How do you expect people to walk on this uneven ground?”
“A wooden floor will be laid down after the tent is raised,” Tara Lee explained from behind me.
“Where are all the people going to park?” I asked in a daze.
“We’ll be offering affordable valet parking and a free shuttle bus from The Market parking lot.”
“You really have thought of everything, haven’t you?”
“Why of course, dear. Most of this was planned long ago when the party was to be held at my home. All that was required was a change of venue. Of course, Lucy and Rosemary have been instrumental in the implementation.”
Speak of the devils, here they were, coming to greet me, Tara Lee’s two demons in crime. As she approached, Rosemary displayed a broad smile and threw her arms wide. I allowed her to hug me and plant a peck on each cheek without biting her head off. After all, she hadn’t brought Alex’s sister with her.
My mother was more humble in her approach. She looked to be fully aware that I was not happy with the situation.
“Come with me, Chloe,” she said, taking me by the arm. “You look like you could use a drink.”
“A drink?” I was so dazed I had a hard time comprehending the meaning of her words.
“Yes, dear. I believe they’ve finished setting up the bar in your kitchen,” she explained, guiding me back inside.
When we made it into the kitchen, Mom brought down two tumblers from the cupboard where my dishes used to be stored and poured us each a healthy dose of brandy she obtained from the cupboard where my coffee mugs should have been.
“Here, dear. Drink this. It will make you feel better.”
“You’re joining me?”
“Yes, I am.”
“But, Mom, you never drink.”
“You know, I try to think the best of everyone, but Rosemary and Tara Lee together leave me utterly fatigued.”
“I hear you,” I said. “It’s a shame that I love Alex.”
We clinked glasses together before taking our first sips. By the time I had finished my second glass, I was feeling much better about having my home invaded. I brought my glass with me to the back window to watch the raising of the tent. My mother joined me and we cheered when the center supports were inserted. The thing dwarfed my house, blocking out what little sunlight the clouds let through.
“You know, it’s very generous of you to offer up your home for this celebration,” my mother said.
“Yes, it is, isn’t it?”
“However did you get Alex to buy into the idea?”
“I haven’t, yet.”
“You mean Alex doesn’t know about this?” Mom asked in shock.
“Not yet.”
“Oh my. I sure wouldn’t want to be in your shoes when he gets home.”
“Me neither,” I agreed wholeheartedly. “I think I’ll blame Rosemary.”
Mom poured me another glass of brandy, and then refreshed her own glass. We remained at the window and watched as the workers staked and tied down the sides of the tent. There were large plastic windows in each side panel. When they were down, the tent looked a great deal like a church, sans the steeple. Workers were already carrying in
large sections of wood flooring to be laid down inside the tent.
“All this party preparation reminds me of the first party your father and I threw after moving back home after college. Did I ever tell you about it?” Mom asked. Her voice was very soothing.
“Probably, but why don’t you tell me again.”
And she did…
The Story of the Avocado Pit
As you know, your father and I moved out to the west coast from upstate New York just before you were born. Your father was from here, but I was an east coast girl. The move proved to be quite a culture shock for me and the new surroundings took some getting used to. It seemed like everything was different, even the food was different. People out here ate salad mixed with fresh garden vegetables. Heck, they even put salad on their hamburgers, something we would never have stood for out on the east coast.
Anyway, once we got settled down I was determined to have the neighbors in for a party in our new home. Furthermore, I was determined to serve west coast style food, though I had no experience in preparing it. I went to the market and bought salmon for Henry to grill up on the barbeque along with lots of fresh vegetables. I bought the prepackaged Mexican style rice and last but not least the fixings for a garden salad, including an ingredient I’d only ever heard of, an avocado.
The preparation of the food turned out to be rather easy. Henry took on the brunt of the cooking chores by slaving over his grill out back. The rice was a no-brainer, which only left the salad, and that only involved cutting up vegetables and preparing an oil and vinegar dressing. But then there was the avocado to deal with. Through experimentation, I quickly determined that it would have to be peeled, but what of the hard substance, the pit I supposed, at its core?
Fortunately, just as I was dealing with the avocado, one of the neighbors walked into the kitchen. Ed Long was a prankster, which I didn’t know at the time. If I had known, I wouldn’t have naively asked him what to do with the avocado pit.
“Why, you chop it up and put it in the salad,” he explained.
That pit was as hard as a rock. I almost lost three fingers trying to cut the thing up. Later, Sally Long came into the kitchen to see what was taking so long. She couldn’t believe her eyes when she saw me trying to chop up the avocado pit. Of course, she explained to me that the pit should simply be thrown away, that the meat around the pit was what was needed. When I carried the finished salad to the table, everyone started laughing at me, even Henry. I was so embarrassed, but we had a nice meal anyway.
Beast of a Feast (A Chloe Boston Mystery Book 11) Page 8