A Catered Tea Party

by Isis Crawford

  “With what? Superglue?” Libby said.

  “I was thinking that rock,” Bernie said, pointing to a large one five feet away. It wouldn’t stop George from opening the door, but it would slow him down.

  Bernie and Libby ran over to it. The rock proved harder to move than Bernie had anticipated because the bottom half was buried in the dirt, but after several tries they finally succeeded in getting it out and rolling it toward the door.

  “I think I pulled a muscle in my shoulder,” Libby complained when they were done. She looked around. “Do you know where we are?”

  Bernie brushed the dirt off her hands, then pointed to the left. “I think we’re in the woods in back of the office. If we go straight, we should come out next to the van.”

  “I hope you’re right,” Libby said.

  “Me too,” Bernie replied as she picked up Zalinsky’s backpack and started moving off in that direction. She wanted to get out of there before George came out of the tunnel. “I guess we’ll find out.”

  Bernie walked quickly, keeping her eyes on the ground so she didn’t trip over any roots or rocks. It took her and Libby five minutes to get to the van, longer than she had anticipated.

  “Oh my God,” she cried when she saw a reflection of herself in the van’s side-view mirror. “I look horrible.” And she took a tissue out of her bag and began wiping off the eyeliner and mascara that had migrated to her cheeks.

  “Yeah, you do look pretty bad,” Libby concurred.

  “Well, you don’t look so good yourself,” Bernie retorted.

  “At least my makeup is where it’s supposed to be.”

  “That’s because you don’t wear any,” Bernie shot back.

  “Exactly my point. That way nothing can go wrong. Okay, we both look like hell,” Libby conceded, looking down at her knees. They were scraped and bleeding from crawling through the tunnel, plus she had a tear in her T-shirt and black stuff across the leg of her Bermuda shorts, while Bernie had a circle of muck on the bodice of her DKNY wrap dress and a tear on the skirt. Bernie sighed. Hopefully the tailor would be able to fix it.

  “Come on,” she told Libby, opening Mathilda’s door. “Let’s get in the truck before George gets here.” She was thinking she was hearing a twig popping kind of noise, but she wasn’t sure.

  Libby jumped in, while Bernie started Mathilda’s engine. Mathilda coughed and spluttered.

  “You can always count on Mathilda not to start when you need her,” Bernie groused. Finally Mathilda’s engine caught. “About time,” Bernie said.

  Then, just as Bernie was going to switch into drive, she saw George through the trees.

  Chapter 13

  “Step on it,” Libby cried, having seen George as well. Bernie shook her head. She’d changed her mind. “No. We’re staying put.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I have a better idea.” Then Bernie turned off the van, leaned over, and opened the door.

  “What do you think you’re doing?” Libby asked, aghast.

  “Playing a hunch,” Bernie replied.

  “First we practically kill ourselves to avoid meeting George, and now we’re sitting here waiting for him?” Libby asked as she saw her chance for a cool shower followed by a watermelon and feta salad with a slice of French bread disappearing.

  “Autre temps, autre mores,” Bernie chirped airily.

  Libby fought off a desire to strangle her sister. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

  “It means, loosely translated, different time, different situation,” Bernie replied, stepping onto the ground. She could see George coming out of the woods. He was putting his phone away as he came toward her. He’s probably telling Erin where we are, Bernie thought as she crossed her arms over her chest and waited for him.

  “Fancy seeing you here,” Bernie said to George when he was a couple of feet away from her. She looked him up and down. “Wow. Where were you? You look like you were digging in a mine or something.”

  “You don’t look too good yourself,” George replied while he wiped a smear of blood off a small cut on his arm. “Maybe we were digging in the same place.”

  “I don’t do well in the heat,” Bernie told him. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see Erin running up to meet them. Good, Bernie thought. The more the merrier.

  “What are you doing here?” George demanded as Libby got out of the van and joined her sister.

  “Yes,” Erin seconded, coming up behind George. “I’d like to know that too.”

  As Erin stopped to catch her breath, Bernie was heartened to note that her eye makeup had migrated down her cheeks as well. Then she noticed there was something different about Erin’s appearance, but Bernie just couldn’t put her finger on what it was.

  “Funny you should ask, Erin,” Bernie said. “Hsaio and I must have gotten our times mixed up. She asked Libby and me to meet her at the office, but when we got there the door was locked. I guess she must have gone to class. Too bad, because she said she had some important information to tell us concerning your benefactor’s death, but since that wasn’t happening, we decided to take a little jaunt through the woods. It’s really quite lovely this time of year.”

  Erin smiled sweetly. “Yes, Ludvoc could be incredibly generous. The world will miss him.” She put her hands up to her eyes to wipe away a tear.

  “That’s what Hsaio said,” Bernie lied. “We’ll all miss him.”

  “Yes, we certainly will,” Erin agreed.

  George coughed, while Libby tried to keep a straight face.

  “We just came to collect a few things that Ludvoc wanted me to have,” Erin explained.

  “Keepsakes can be such a comfort,” Libby chimed in.

  Erin nodded. “That is so true.”

  “I didn’t know you were Magda’s cousin,” Libby said.

  “Third cousin,” Erin said.

  “Are you Russian?” Libby asked.

  “On my mother’s side,” Erin said.

  “Because Erin isn’t a Russian name,” Libby said.

  “It was Irina. I changed it,” Erin said.

  “So, as I was saying,” Bernie said, jumping back into the conversation, “since Hsaio wasn’t here, my sister and I decided to look around, and the most amazing thing happened. You’ll never guess what we found.”

  “A unicorn?” George said. He swatted at a bee and then plucked a thorn out of the palm of his hand with his teeth.

  Bernie smiled at him. “No. A backpack. Just lying out in the woods.”

  “Really?” Erin said. “Probably something some kid dropped.”

  “One would think, but one would be wrong,” Bernie replied. “At least in my experience, most kids don’t carry gold coins, cash, a gun, diamonds, and a fake passport in their backpacks. Although there are always going to be exceptions to that rule.”

  Bernie looked at Erin as she spoke. She reminded Bernie of a setter spotting a bird. Erin was vibrating with excitement; she was trying very hard to be Miss Cool—and not succeeding.

  “So whose backpack was it?” Erin asked.

  “Zalinsky’s. Imagine that,” Bernie said.

  “Imagine,” Erin echoed weakly.

  “I guess he was planning on leaving,” Bernie said. “Did you know about that?”

  Erin rallied. “No,” she asserted, unconvincingly in Bernie’s mind. “I didn’t.”

  “Do you have any idea why he would do something like that?”

  “Leave?” Erin asked.

  “Yes,” Bernie said.

  George took a step forward. “He told my brother he was afraid someone was out to get him.”

  Erin put her hand to her mouth. “You never told me that,” she cried.

  “I thought I did,” George said.

  “I would have remembered if you had,” Erin replied.

  “Did he say who?” Bernie asked, interrupting.

  “Not to my brother,” George answered.

  “How about to you?” Bernie inqu
ired, swallowing. Her mouth felt dry, probably from all the dust she’d swallowed in the tunnel. She needed water. There was a bottle in the van, but she didn’t want to interrupt the conversational flow to get it. “Did he say anything to you?” she asked for the sake of thoroughness, because she didn’t believe that Zalinsky had said anything to George’s brother, Stan, let alone to George.

  “Nope.” George scratched a mosquito bite. “So what are you going to do with the backpack?”

  “We’re turning it over to the police, naturally,” Bernie said.

  Erin smiled and smoothed down her hair with the palm of her hand. “Of course you are. You know, George and I are going that way.” She turned to George. “Aren’t we?”

  George nodded. “Definitely.”

  “We’ll be happy to drop it off.”

  “Thanks for the offer, but I think we’d better do it,” Bernie told her. And then what was bothering her about Erin hit her. She wasn’t wearing her earrings, her necklace, or her bracelet. “What happened to your jewelry?” she asked. “I hope it wasn’t stolen or anything.”

  “Oh no,” Erin replied. “I just don’t like to wear anything in the summer when it’s this hot. I get rashes.”

  “I do too,” Bernie said. “It’s such a drag. That’s why I can only wear the real stuff.”

  “Me too,” Erin said.

  George snorted.

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” Erin demanded, turning to him.

  George threw up his hands. “Nothing. Nothing at all. A fly just flew up my nose. Damned insects. They’re all over the woods this time of year.”

  Right, Bernie thought, her ears perking up. She wondered what George was alluding to. She decided to throw out some more lines and see what she reeled in. If that didn’t work, she and Libby could always talk to him alone later. “Which reminds me,” she went on. “Did I tell you we found some jewelry in Zalinsky’s backpack?”

  Erin’s eyes widened slightly. “No, you didn’t.”

  “There was a whole bunch of it in a leather case. A lot of it looked like the stuff you wear, except of course yours is real and this was paste.” Bernie shook her head in mock dismay.

  George snorted again.

  “Really?” Erin said.

  “Really,” Bernie replied, pausing to retie the sash on her dress as she assessed the expression on Erin’s face. She couldn’t tell what Erin was thinking. Was the jewelry Zalinsky had given Erin real, or wasn’t it? Obviously, George’s snort had meant something. But what? Bernie admitted to herself that she didn’t know.

  “Frankly, I’m surprised,” Erin said.

  “Me too,” Bernie agreed. “I would be so pissed if that happened to me—thinking I’d been given something real and it turns out its fake! I’d feel . . .” Bernie flung her hands out, “I don’t know . . . furious.”

  Erin cleared her throat. “Well, mine was”—she corrected herself—“is real.”

  “I remember,” Bernie reminisced, wondering what Erin’s change of tense meant, “this guy I was going out with in San Fran giving me this emerald ring, and I was showing it off, and someone I knew took me aside and told me it was a fake. I wanted to kill Ollie. I think doing someone like that shows such a lack of respect.

  “But then I don’t think Zalinsky had any respect for most people. Look what he did to Libby and me. Making us serve that terrible menu. I mean, we would have been the laughingstock of the food world. But did he care? He did not. On top of everything else, he didn’t even pay us for all our time and effort. No, Zalinsky really screwed us over. Lucky he didn’t do that to you,” she told Erin.

  “Yes, isn’t it,” Erin replied evenly.

  “Even if he did throw your flowers on the floor and tell you to clean up the mess. I have to say you handled that very well, better than I would have. I would have wanted to brain him.”

  “He did have a temper,” Erin allowed.

  “That’s for sure,” Libby agreed.

  “He was always nice to me, though,” Erin said, her voice getting stronger.

  George snorted for the fourth time. Erin pointedly ignored him.

  “But he did have his dark side,” she continued. “He could be ruthless.” She turned to George. “Look what he did to you and your brother.”

  George gave Erin a warning look. “What are you talking about?”

  “Just the way he made you and your brother come work for him after he ruined your business,” Erin said.

  “We wanted to work for him,” George protested. “We did,” he told Bernie and Libby. “He said he’d help expand B & G Biometrics.”

  “Instead of which he closed it down,” Erin said. She tsk-tsked. “And after all that money you borrowed from your family. What did Stan say? That your parents took out a second mortgage on their house, and now the bank might take it?”

  George glared at her. “We’re paying everything back,” he said through gritted teeth. “It’s going to be fine.”

  This time it was Erin’s turn to snort. “What are you paying it back with?” Erin asked pleasantly. “I mean, I’m sure Zalinsky stiffed you just like he stiffed everyone else.”

  “Maybe that’s true,” George said, advancing on Erin. Bernie noted that his face had grown red. “But at least I still have a place to live. At least he wasn’t ditching me for a younger, prettier model and throwing me out of my apartment.”

  “That’s a lie,” Erin cried. She balled her hands into fists. “An absolute lie. How can you say something like that?”

  “Really, is that why you were asking Magda if you could live with her?”

  “She totally misunderstood what I was saying,” Erin snapped. “Totally.”

  George licked his lips. Bernie decided he looked as if he wanted to strangle Erin. “She’s not the only one who is misinformed.”

  “That man brought out the worst in everyone,” Bernie commented.

  Erin and George turned to look at Bernie. It was as if they’d forgotten she and her sister were there, Libby reflected.

  “He certainly did,” Libby said, echoing Bernie’s sentiments.

  For a moment, neither George nor Erin spoke. Then George started in again.

  “He certainly was a piece of work,” George said, laughing. “Look at what he did to Erin.”

  “He didn’t do anything to me,” Erin told Bernie.

  “She had this promising career,” George explained to Bernie and Libby. “And now . . . it’s pretty much over.”

  Erin punched George in the arm.

  “Ouch,” he said, moving away from her. “That hurt.”

  “Sorry,” Erin said, although Bernie didn’t think she looked contrite. At all. “He doesn’t know what he’s talking about.”

  “Yeah?” George put his hands on his hips. “Well, that’s what Igor said, and he should know,” he told Erin. “He’s in the business.”

  “He’s a wannabe,” Erin scoffed. “Now, are you sure we can’t take the backpack for you?” she asked Bernie, changing the subject. “I’d hate to see you go out of the way. I mean, you’re so busy with the shop and all.”

  “I’m positive,” Bernie said, and she turned and climbed back in the van. “But thanks for the offer.”

  Erin and George looked at them for a moment, and then they moved off. Even though they couldn’t hear anything, Bernie and Libby could tell from the way Erin’s and George’s arms were moving that they were arguing.

  “Talk about throwing someone under the bus,” Bernie commented when Erin and George had disappeared into the woods. She reached for her bottle of water and took a big gulp. “Erin was pretty quick to do that to George.”

  “And George was pretty quick to reciprocate,” Libby noted.

  Bernie leaned over, turned the air conditioner on high, and fanned the tepid breeze toward her face. “So much for young love,” she said. “Did you hear that Zalinsky was throwing Erin out?”

  Libby shook her head. “No. Did you?”

  “You t
hink George was telling the truth?”

  “Yup,” Libby said. “Or let me just say Zalinsky doing that wouldn’t surprise me. At all.”

  Bernie took another gulp of water and passed the bottle to Libby. She’d heard something about Erin . . . now what was it? Then suddenly she remembered.

  “You know,” she began, “I think I remember hearing that Erin was engaged to this investment banker and that Zalinsky took her away from him.”

  “That’s funny,” Libby said, “because I heard she was going out with Jason and Zalinsky took her away from him.”

  Bernie did a rat-tat-tat with her fingernails on the steering wheel. “We should find out.”

  “Without a doubt,” Libby told her as Bernie shifted into drive and started toward the Longely police station.

  Chapter 14

  “That’s the last time I ever do the police a favor,” Libby grumbled as Bernie pulled the van in front of their shop, A Little Taste of Heaven. “We should have kept the money.”

  “It would be nice,” Bernie agreed, thinking of everything they could have done with it.

  The transfer of the backpack to the police had not gone as smoothly as Bernie had anticipated it would. She’d figured she’d hand Zalinsky’s backpack off to her Dad’s friend Clyde, explain that she’d found it in the woods, and leave. Unfortunately, Clyde wasn’t there. Lucy, aka Lucas Broadbent, Longely’s chief of police and her dad’s nemesis, was.

  “Damn,” Bernie muttered when she saw him come out of his office. The Simmons family didn’t like him, and he sure didn’t like them. She knew he wasn’t going to buy her story on general principles, but it was too late to leave now. “Looking good,” she told him. Actually, Lucy had gained even more weight since she’d seen him last. Between that and his bald head, he looked like an egg.

  “Ah, the Simmons sisters.” He rubbed his hands together. “Seeing you just makes my day. Why are you here?”

  So Bernie told him.

  “How do I know this isn’t a setup to divert suspicion from your friend Casper?” he’d demanded.

  “Brilliant deduction. Yeah, I always have twenty thousand dollars in cash, gold coins, and diamonds hanging around the flat,” Bernie had replied.