by Jenny Kales
“How are you?” Minette said. Her hair was pushed back in a headband and she looked tired, with greyish circles under her usually bright eyes. “Back at work, I see.”
“Somebody’s got to do it,” Callie said. “Anyway, it’s not like I have customers beating down the door, which is starting to become an issue. Still, I’d rather be here. At home all I have is time to think about everything – and that’s not good.”
“Yeah, I know what you mean,” Minette said, slumping into a table in front of the bakery cases. “I saw the news article. Sorry about that.” She waved away Callie’s offer of coffee and rested her chin on her folded hands.
“This whole going out of business thing is too much for me. I left Jeff at the chocolate shop – he’s buzzing around the place, still trying to charm customers. I don’t think he gets it. The shop is closing. I don’t even think winning the Taste of Crystal Bay money could have saved us.” Minette sighed gustily.
“I had no idea things were going so poorly for you. I wish you’d told me.” Callie patted her friend’s hand.
Minette let out a strangled laugh. “You couldn’t have helped. We need big money to get out of trouble and we decided the best thing to do would be to close. At least I thought that was our plan. Jeff seems to have other ideas.” Minette sat up and ran her fingers through her blonde pixie cut. “Anyway, that’s life, right?”
“Come on,” Callie protested. “Maybe there’s a way. I remember how excited you were when you opened Minette’s Chocolates.” She sat down next to her friend and nudged her shoulder affectionately. “Remember what you said?”
Minette blinked and a shadow of a smile flickered across her lips. “I do. I said I had the perfect name to be the owner of a French-themed chocolate shop so it was destined to be a success! Do you remember how I told you that my mother was a Julia Child fan, from way back?” Minette had a starry look in her eyes and Callie decided it was good for her to vent a bit even though she had heard the story before. She nodded encouragingly at her friend.
“Mom said that Julia loved cats and sometimes, on her TV show, she talked about the cats she had in Paris. So Mom looked it up and it turns out that ‘Minette’ is an endearment for felines in French. She thought it had a beautiful sound to it and the rest is history. So much for my name. In the end, it didn’t make much difference.”
Callie was dismayed to see her friend so low. “Everybody is struggling right now,” she said gently. “Maybe you can find a way to stay open. If Jeff hasn’t given up, maybe you shouldn’t either.”
“Calliope Costas, The Eternal Optimist,” Minette said. “I wish things would work out but I don’t know.” She pushed back from the table and stood up. “Thanks for listening. I know you have your own problems. I’m really sorry about Drew. You know you can talk to me any time.” She gave Callie a rueful smile. “I’d better get back to work and see this thing through.”
“That’s the spirit. And I’m not always such an optimist – I just know that you and Jeff are chocolate artists. Or should I say artistes.”
“Thanks, Callie,” Minette’s chin wobbled and she appeared to be struggling to contain strong emotions. “I’ve got to go.” She was out the door before Callie could formulate the word “Goodbye.”
Poor Minette. The door jingled again and Callie’s heart gave a little leap. Could it be customers at last? No such luck. It was Detective Sands, accompanied by the officer who had been on the scene the night of Drew’s murder.
“Hello,” he said, looking around her shop. “It certainly smells good in here.” Callie smiled uncertainly at him – maybe he was only here on a casual visit.
“Thanks. What I can I do for you? Would you like some meals-from-scratch to heat up at home or the office? Lots of good stuff available today.”
“Not exactly,” Sands said. Callie took in his sad hazel eyes and unruly hair. He really was a rather attractive man when he wasn’t interrogating her, she thought, then blushed deep red, feeling both ridiculous and disloyal to Drew’s memory.
“Well?” Callie asked, hoping the detective didn’t notice her beet-red face.
“Ms. Costas, I have a warrant. You’re going to have to turn your knives over to me as part of our investigation.”
“My knives? Well, what am I supposed to work with? Why do you need my knives?” Callie heard her voice shoot up several octaves and willed herself to calm down.
“All part of our investigation. Shall we?” Sands asked, motioning for Callie to lead him into the kitchen.
Numbly, Callie led the two men to the cooking area. Sands gave a nod to his partner, and the officer started rummaging through kitchen drawers and cabinets. Each knife that he found was placed in a clear cylindrical tube. He then took each knife from the wooden knife block on her countertop and performed the same careful storage process.
Callie found herself wanting to cry out and stop him, but she knew that she couldn’t. Sands looked at her, almost with sympathy, she thought, but that look was quickly replaced by an expression of resolve. With gloved hands, he placed the empty wooden knife block into a clear plastic bag.
Callie found her voice again. “Wait. This proves nothing. I have several kinds of knives and anyway, the murder weapon was there, when I found Drew. This makes no sense!” She started to tremble but refused to let them see her cry. Damn them. How was she going to cook without knives, an expensive kitchen tool? An even worse – they obviously suspected her of the murder!
“I am truly sorry, but I can’t discuss this with you. I suggest you speak to you friend, the lawyer. In the meantime, I appreciate your cooperation. If you have nothing to hide, you should have nothing to worry about,” Sands said. She felt him giving her one of his penetrating looks but she couldn’t look him in the eye. She was terrified and angry beyond belief all at the same time.
“Right.” Callie bit off the word. “Just tell me when I can have them back.”
“There is no telling,” Sands said. “I wish I could give you details, but I can’t. Thank you. We’ll just be leaving now.” If he thought Callie was going to wish him a fond goodbye, he had another think coming, as Viv would say.
Once she was alone again, Callie shed hot tears. She was in real trouble, there was no denying it. No customers. A confiscated cellphone. Now, no knives. Would they assign her to kitchen duty in prison?
With trembling fingers she dialed Samantha’s cell phone. Sam didn’t answer and Callie left a terse and hopefully – coherent – message.
There was nothing to do but to close up shop for the day, get a new phone and replace at least some of the knives. Callie had one emergency credit card and this situation definitely qualified. Plus, she had to confront Jane Willoughby. She didn’t have any more time to waste.
Callie stored food, wiped down surfaces, and as an afterthought, she boxed up some cookies and pastries to give to Jane. Sweets for the sweet? Hardly, but she felt like bringing a gift might at least break the ice.
Deciding that she couldn’t spare the 30 minutes it would take to drive to the shopping mall, Callie visited a touristy kitchen store. There, she secured professional-grade knives for a small fortune, ignoring the inquisitive look of the cashier. Next stop was her cell phone provider where she got a new phone, telling them it was for her daughter. She imagined her emergency credit card buckling and straining under its unaccustomed use.
Impatient at still having no word from Sam, Callie sent her a text, giving her friend her new cell phone number and briefly explaining her situation. Finally, she was ready to confront Jane.
On Tuesdays, Jane was usually at Bodies by the Bay, something that Callie remembered from dealing with the Chamber. She decided to dress in workout gear as a pretense for being there. Callie went home where she changed clothes, fed and watered Koukla and packed a gym bag to complete her ruse.
The low-slung modern building housing Bodies by the Bay had stellar lake views to match its state-of-the-art equipment. Today the expensive concrete w
ork sparkled like diamonds in the sun. Colorful mums flourished in solid-looking ceramic pots that flanked the front doorway. Callie saw a price tag on the back of the pot and leaned down to look more closely — and the price astounded her. True, the arrangement was large and perfectly gorgeous, but that was a lot of cash for two containers of flowers.
Jane was one of the few business owners in Crystal Bay with money to burn these days. In some ways, it was surprising that her business had done so well, considering that Crystal Bay residents were usually so bundled up in their cold-weather clothing there wasn’t much chance to flaunt a toned physique.
It didn’t hurt that Jane Willoughby came from a wealthy family and was able to funnel a lot of her own money into making it great, offering clients a wide range of classes and activities. In addition to cardio-training and spinning classes, Bodies by the Bay even offered rehab services for people recuperating from injury. Besides all of that, there were few places in town for singles to meet and the fitness center tended to be the singles meeting place for everyone aged 25 and over.
For the middle of a weekday, the place was buzzing with clientele – lots of young mothers, clients of all ages undergoing physical therapy, some college-aged boys playing basketball in the center of the facility. Callie wasn’t used to doing anything leisurely at this time of day; it was interesting to see how the other half lived.
The sharp smell of chlorine stung Callie’s nostrils as she handed her infrequently-used club membership card to the receptionist, then passed the indoor pool area, complete with a warm physical therapy pool and superhot Jacuzzi. Callie could never stand that Jacuzzi more than a few minutes. The temp was borderline scalding.
Near the back of the fitness center, past the indoor track, basketball court and machines was the locker room. As Callie stored her gym bag in one of the slender gray lockers and picked up a fresh towel from an artfully rolled pile on a bench, she noticed a woman in a green polo and khaki pants. The fitness center logo – the silhouette of a thin woman running – was emblazoned on the left shoulder of her shirt. “Excuse me, where can I find Jane Willoughby?” she asked as the young woman rushed by her.
“Ms. Willoughby is very busy today. Do you have an appointment?” the young woman responded curtly with a flick of her brunette ponytail. She wore blunt-cut bangs, bright red lipstick and dramatically arched penciled eyebrows, a stark contrast to her preppy-looking uniform. With her hairstyle and makeup, Callie had an easier time picturing her in a vintage 1950s dress.
“No,” Callie said, thinking quickly. “I’m dropping off some treats today after my workout. I’m the owner of Callie’s Kitchen on Garden Street.”
“Oooh, what kind of treats?” Suddenly, Ms. Ponytail with an Attitude was all smiles. Callie gave her a big smile in return. “Oh, a little of this, a little of that. Mini coffee cakes. Some Greek cookies. A few brownies.”
“Yum! Well, you come with me. Jane hasn’t been eating much lately, I’m sure this will cheer her up! And she works out almost constantly, so she’ll burn it off in no time.”
“She works out almost constantly,” Callie echoed, thinking of Jane’s recent miscarriage. Surely the doctor would have her modifying her exercise activity, at least for a while.
“Of course,” the young woman said, leading Callie past the pool again and to offices behind the reception area. She waved at a few workers sitting at their desks, then led Callie down a long hallway to an office with Jane’s nameplate on the door and gestured to it.
“In fact, she was just on the elliptical machine for at least an hour when I got here today. Well, here you are. You be sure and save me some of those brownies!” Ms. Ponytail winked and jogged off down the hall.
Here goes nothing, Callie thought, knocking on the door.
“Come in,” called a familiar voice. Callie slowly opened the door and stepped inside. Jane’s mouth gave her signature cheery smile but it seemed to fade before it reached her eyes. Callie swallowed and offered her friend an upbeat “hello.”
Jane nodded at Callie. “Steve said he stopped at your shop last night. Your dinner was really good. Of course, I couldn’t eat much, since I’m watching my weight.”
Callie couldn’t resist a plug for her healthy if comforting cuisine. “Well, you can eat my food – at least the entrees—mostly without guilt. I pride myself on healthful food.”
Jane didn’t respond to this mini advertisement for Callie’s Kitchen. “What can I do for you today? Is this about your membership? Don’t worry if you let it slide. We can re-sign you in no time.” Jane’s eyes raked Callie’s figure. “Too many cakes and hearty soups and such plus too little exercise can be a deadly combination.”
Callie’s face felt like it was on fire after that unexpected insult. She was no exercise fanatic and working in the food industry, she was sure she could shed a few pounds, but she didn’t think she looked so bad. It could be the exercise clothes; they tended to hug her figure in all the wrong places, like her lower belly, still slightly distended after her Caesarean section ten years prior. Unconsciously she sucked in her abdomen and stood up straighter. She decided to ignore Jane’s dig.
“My membership is still good. I had a quick question for you if you don’t mind.” Suddenly, it seemed far too awkward to stand. “Do you mind if I sit for a minute? It won’t take long.”
Jane waved a hand toward the chair in front of her desk. “Fine, but I don’t have a lot of time. Busy day and all of that. What’s the problem?”
Callie waited until she had seated herself and took a closer look at her Chamber of Commerce colleague. Face to face, Jane’s normally-sparkling green eyes looked fatigued, which was understandable since she must be depressed and still mourning the loss of her pregnancy. The excessive working out didn’t fit that profile, though.
“I know you’ve heard of Drew’s death by now,” Callie began.
Jane had been studying some papers on her desk but at this her head snapped up so quickly on her graceful, flower stalk neck that Callie half-expected it to snap right off of her body like a Barbie doll. “Yes, I’m…sorry. I should have said so when you came in. You and Drew were seeing each other.” Jane smoothed her hair back from her forehead and sat up, her hands folded in front of her. “Well? Is this about the Chamber?”
“No, my question is about the business contest. I spoke to Mrs. DeWitt today and she said…”
Jane put up a hand. “Callie, I don’t mean to be rude.” She shifted in her seat a bit and seemed unsure how to continue. “I just can’t talk about that right now. We are very behind in work over here and to tell you the truth, I’m really not sure how we’re going to handle the contest. I don’t know how I’m going to get everything done!” She bent her head before Callie could see the tears fall. Jane’s long, graceful arm shot out and discreetly reached for a tissue at the corner of her desk.
Callie was a little taken aback. She’d never seen Jane’s business-like composure crack and her heart warmed to her. So this can-do woman with the amazing figure was human after all. But if she didn’t get to the point with Jane soon, she wasn’t sure how she was going to get everything done, either.
“I had nothing to do with his death but I’m under suspicion. And that’s why I’m here. I’m trying to get out of trouble, not cause it for anyone else,” she spoke softly and Jane sniffed, looking at her wedding ring as she twisted it around her finger. The enormous diamond glowed under the bright office lights.
Finally, Jane decided to respond. “I saw the newspaper article. It looks like you’ve been the target of a journalist. Sorry.”
“I wanted to say I’m sorry to you, too,” Callie continued. “I heard about your miscarriage.” Jane nodded and whispered “Thank you.”
Callie sighed. She decided to share her concerns quickly and leave Jane in peace.
“I know this is an awkward time for everyone but I need your help. The police think that Drew’s murder might have something to do with his winning the Taste of Cryst
al Bay. All I want to know is a couple of details about the contest rules. It seems that Mrs. DeWitt may have misled the head detective working Drew’s case. She told him that the original rules outlined a second and third place winner, but you all decided as a group to nix that to give the contest some extra competitive edge.”
Jane shrugged. “So? Seriously, I’ve got to get to work.”
“So my question is—who knew about those original rules? And did you personally tell anyone about it? Because apparently I was second in line, and it’s causing the police some suspicion.” This admission hurt Callie’s pride, but she had to be honest if she was going to get anywhere.
Jane sighed. “I don’t know what you’re getting at, Callie.”
Callie felt the blood rush to her face in exasperation. “Mrs. DeWitt said that you kept the section about giving the winnings to the runner-up if for some reason the first place winner couldn’t accept it and that those rules were just there for clerical purposes. I’m sure you never thought they’d come into play. However, law enforcement has the idea that maybe someone killed Drew because they knew about the pecking order for the prize.” She didn’t mention that the police were zeroing in on her. Likely, Jane knew that already, or had guessed, if she’d read that blasted news article.
Jane gave Callie an impatient glance. “All of that may be true but what can I do about it now?” She looked at her watch.
“Don’t you see — even if you mentioned something about the contest in passing they could have told someone? And that person could be the killer, or could lead us to the killer. Or maybe the third place winner found out somehow, and they’re the killer! Please, you have to tell me what you know, for both of our sakes.”
Jane rolled her eyes. “Just tell the detective – or I will – that only Mrs. DeWitt and I were in that meeting for the contest rules. We scratched the original premise of a first, second and third place winner, so it doesn’t really matter.” She sounded more exhausted than angry and Callie was beginning to regret that she’d ever begun this conversation. What kind of a monster bothers a woman mourning a pregnancy loss? She was as bad as the information-seekers at Callie’s Kitchen the morning after Drew’s murder.