On the Chopping Block (A Callie's Kitchen Mystery Book 1)

by Jenny Kales

“Nonsense!” Mrs. DeWitt replied. “No thanks are necessary. What are friends for?” Minette nodded and smiled at Callie. Her tears had stopped once they entered the hospital.

  “Yes,” Minette echoed. “She’s right. You’d do the same for us.”

  Callie was touched that Minette was waiting with her. Surely, she had bigger things to occupy her time. For example, earlier today it had appeared as if she and her husband were removing all of their equipment and furnishings out of the shop. Fleetingly, she wondered what had happened with their attempt at another bank loan. It couldn’t have been denied that quickly, could it?

  Mrs. DeWitt’s influence was apparent in the quick arrival of a brisk young ER doctor who was prematurely bald with a kind face. He examined Callie briefly and then sent her for a CAT scan. Once it was determined she was not suffering from a concussion, she was released to the care of George who decided it was time to vent some of his fear and frustration.

  “Callie, I’m glad you are all right. But I warned you to be careful. And do you listen? No!”

  George pointed a finger at his daughter and took a breath, obviously gearing up for a long, loud tirade. Mrs. DeWitt frowned at him and stepped between him and Callie, who was holding her head in her hands and bracing herself for the onslaught. When Mrs. DeWitt stepped in, she looked up in surprise.

  “George Costas,” Mrs. DeWitt sounded like ice. George raised his shaggy eyebrows and was surprised into silence. “I know you’re worried about your daughter, but I’ll not let you stand here and scold her. She needs you right now. Now, are you going to behave yourself and take your daughter home to watch over her tonight as the good doctor has suggested? Or do I have to?” Mrs. DeWitt’s eyes flashed with fire and even the E.R. doctor looked impressed.

  George’s olive skin flushed like a ripe tomato but he held his tongue. Callie knew him too well: there was no way he was going to let someone else take care of her. She was his project and his alone.

  “Very well,” her father said, attempting to smile at his errant offspring. “Callie, dear, you come with me. We will speak no more about this for the time being.”

  Callie gave a weak nod to Mrs. DeWitt who nodded back at her. To George, “the time being” probably only meant about half an hour, but at least it was a small reprieve. Who knew? He might even cool down, at least a little bit.

  Once the E.R. doctor saw that the family drama was played out, he told George to watch her that night and wake her up every few hours, just in case. Callie was thrilled not to spend the night in the hospital, but too late she remembered her promise to Lucille. As she, George and her friends left the hospital, she relayed her visit with Lucille and her promise to bring soup to her injured friend.

  “I’ll call Max at the shop and he can deliver it,” George reassured her. “With some soup for you, of course. The doctor said you should not eat much until you feel better.”

  “No problem there,” Callie answered. “All of this drama and trauma hasn’t left me with much of an appetite.”

  The four parted ways in the hospital parking lot with thanks and promises to check up on Callie in a few days.

  George seemed to have absorbed the fact that he was needed by his daughter and he maintained a respectful silence as he drove along the lakefront. Callie shook her head at this new mood shift and quickly stopped. It hurt.

  “We’ll go to your house, Callie,” George said as they drove out of the hospital parking lot. “I can sleep on the sofa. It will be better for you to be surrounded by your own things and anyway, there’s Koukla to look after.”

  “Thanks, Dad. I know it hasn’t exactly been our top priority today, but I should probably report my stolen purse to the police.”

  “Now, now, no worrying about trivial matters. You’ll give yourself a bigger headache.” George smiled at his daughter, his brown eyes crinkling up at the edges in the way she loved. “When Max initially called me, he told me that he would report the stolen purse and the assault while you were en route to the hospital. It’s likely already been taken care of. Of course, you’ll get questioned by the police again, though.” George frowned at this last.

  Despite zero desire to be questioned by the police, Callie felt that her stolen purse was the bigger problem at the moment. “My purse had everything in it! But you’re right. I can replace most of it. At least they didn’t get my new cell phone. That was in the car.”

  “See? It’s not all bad news. Just remember that things can be recovered. People cannot.” He paused. “Do you think your attack is related to Drew’s murder? I think you should reconsider moving in with me until the killer is found.”

  Callie sighed, but quietly. George meant well, but she needed her freedom. Not that she minded the company tonight, though. Her head was pounding and George’s presence would be supremely comforting. That is, if he kept up his promise and refrained from scolding her.

  Once George had gotten her into the house, fed her some soup and given Koukla food, water and attention, he announced that it was time Callie got herself to bed. She was in no position to argue.

  “I’ll just stay down here,” George said, settling on the couch with Koukla on his lap. He flicked on the TV in her living room. “But I will be checking on you from time to time, so don’t let me startle you. I’ll try to be quiet but I am going to have to wake you up, just to be sure you’re fine.”

  “Thanks. Sorry for all of the trouble lately. I’ll be more careful.” Callie gave her father a hug.

  George focused his deep brown eyes directly on his daughter’s face. “Of course. But you must be careful, for the sake of the people who love you. Whoever is behind these actions, it isn’t a game. No, this isn’t a game at all,” he repeated stubbornly. “This is your life.”

  As Callie lay in bed cocooned in her thick white comforter, her father’s words echoed in her aching head. “This is your life.”

  Indeed: This was her life and she wasn’t going to be a victim. Yes, this violent attack had made her more concerned for her physical safety. Alright, she was afraid, down to her bones. But Callie also saw it as progress. Maybe this latest attack meant that she was getting closer to finding the killer. If she was so close, how come she still didn’t have any firm notion about who could have wanted Drew dead?

  Or maybe there were two criminals on the loose: the one who killed Drew and the one who was running around Crystal Bay hitting women on the head. But why? To steal a purse? Lucille had nearly died and nothing had been stolen from her.

  No, the three incidents – Drew’s murder, Lucille’s attack and Callie’s assault outside of her shop had to be linked, she decided. If someone thought a head injury was going to stand in her way of finding out the truth, they were wrong. She wasn’t giving up. What if the attacker had harmed her daughter? Or her father?

  Somebody had to blink first. And that somebody wasn’t going to be her. Let the killer think that he’d knocked her down and out. She was just getting started.

  Eighteen

  Callie woke up to the scent of English Breakfast Tea brewing in the kitchen. She lay blissfully on her pillows for a moment, enjoying the sweet fragrance, as well as the yellow sunshine that was peeking through the blinds of her bedroom. Her head still hurt a bit but it was no longer throbbing. Not quite fully awake, Callie forced herself to sit up as she became aware of the low murmur of masculine voices that wafted up the staircase along with the aroma of brewing tea. Oh no. She struggled out of bed and got to her feet.

  Softly, so as not to leave the sounds of her footsteps on the creaky floorboards, Callie tiptoed to the top of the staircase and listened. Along with the deep rumbling of her father’s Greek accent came the attractively raspy baritone of Detective Sands. The back of her neck prickled with anxiety. She dashed back into her room, unsure if she could face either of them.

  “Callie!” called George from the foot of the staircase. She heard him coming up the stairs. Luckily, it was just one pair of feet that she heard. Seconds later, her
father entered the room.

  “Ah, good. You’re up. How are you feeling today?”

  “Better, I guess. Who were you talking to?” Maybe she was still dreaming.

  “That police detective stopped by to discuss your attack. He agreed to interview you here rather than at the station, since I told him you’d probably feel a little bit under the weather.” George came over to his daughter and kissed her on the cheek. Callie appreciated the affectionate gesture but was starting to feel like a truant teenager who was late for school.

  “He wants to talk to me right now?”

  “Well, why not now? You’re up.” George motioned with his hands, his “hurry up” gesture. “Just get dressed. I’ll cook you some breakfast after he leaves.”

  “Okay, Dad. Give me five minutes.” She smiled at George and castigated herself for any impudent thoughts. It wasn’t George’s fault that Sands was here. Pulling on a light sweater and blue jeans, Callie brushed her hair and splashed cold water on her face. She frowned at her disheveled reflection in the mirror before carefully navigating the stairs on shaky legs.

  Detective Sands was sitting at the kitchen table, looking completely at ease in Callie’s home. How did he manage to appear so in control, no matter what? This time he was dressed in his usual charcoal suit, not the white shirt and jeans that Samantha had found so attractive the other night.

  One leg crossed over the other, the detective was drinking his tea calmly while Koukla sat at his feet, begging for scraps. The little dog ran to Callie, wagging her tail as soon as she saw her. Callie bent down and scratched the dog behind her oversized ears, then slowly stood up and faced the detective.

  “Good morning,” Sands greeted Callie before she could say a word. “I hear you got a nasty bump on the head. You should have called us straight away, you know.” He put down his cup and frowned at her.

  Callie decided to pour herself a cup of tea before answering. As she stepped toward the kitchen table, Sands got up and held out a chair. Trying to appear aloof, she sat down, thanked him and picked up Koukla, who nestled on her lap.

  “I know. I’m sorry. Didn’t Max call you? He said he would, while I was at the hospital. My purse was stolen when I was attacked.”

  “Max. You mean that young fellow who works for you? We haven’t logged any calls from him. I found out about your being attacked from the hospital – they called the police when you told them that your injuries had been sustained by an anonymous assailant.”

  “What?” Callie was well and truly stunned. “Max and Piper – well, let me start over.” Why wouldn’t Max have made good on his offer to call the police? Something must have happened to prevent him. Callie took a sip of tea and added more sugar.

  “My employee Max has a friend, Piper,” Callie said wearily, willing herself to become alert. “She goes to Crystal Bay College and works at the fitness center part-time. Anyway, the two of them found me in the alley after I was hit – or whatever. I’m still not exactly sure what happened. Max was working with me yesterday and both he and Piper said they would take me to the hospital.”

  When Sands didn’t interrupt, Callie continued.

  “I wanted my Dad – George – to take me instead. Somebody had to stay at my business and run things, so I felt it was probably better for Max to stay at work.” She decided not to mention that she had wanted to get away from Max and Piper. Callie looked up at her dad who was leaning against the sink, watching the exchange. Unfortunately, he took her glance as a cue to enter the conversation.

  “Callie’s friends – a Mrs. DeWitt and Minette from Minette’s Chocolates – arrived on the scene and they volunteered to take her to the hospital. I met them there. Max did call and tell me about the change of plans.” George worried a kitchen towel in his gnarled hands, twisting it over and over. “That’s really all I know about it.”

  “Mr. Costas,” Sands said abruptly. “Thanks for the tea and breakfast. It’s been most kind of you. If you don’t have anything to add right now, I think I should talk to Callie alone. I’m sorry to be forward but I would really appreciate it.”

  Callie could see her father’s color rise – never a good sign. “What is the meaning of this?” George sputtered. Callie cut him off.

  “It’s OK, Dad. Really. I’ll be fine.” Callie’s father looked nonplussed, but he complied. “I’ll take Koukla for a walk. Come, Koukla!” Looking at the pair sitting at the table, he started to say something, but thought the better of it. “I’ll be back soon,” he said in a gruff tone. Cooing to Koukla, he took his time leaving the house.

  Once the front door had clicked shut, Sands leaned forward.

  “Callie, what’s going on? This attack could have been random, but something tells me it wasn’t. For example, what was Piper doing at your place of business during that time of day? Was she a customer?”

  “Piper has agreed to do some social media for Callie’s Kitchen in exchange for college credit,” Callie managed to not to croak out her words. She was exhausted and craved dark roast coffee, not tea, but this was not time to be picky about the choice of caffeine on offer.

  “Piper and Max are dating,” Callie explained, taking a sip of her now tepid tea. It was better than nothing. “He recommended her services to me. I don’t know if I should be telling you this or if it has any relevance, but she claims to be a pretty good computer hacker. Reformed, that is.”

  “Right.” Sands sat back and looked at Callie a bit warily, it seemed to her. “So these two didn’t drive you to the hospital and you didn’t call the police. Why?”

  “I told Max to call the police.” Callie swallowed. “But I just wanted my dad to take me to the hospital. Even though we don’t always see eye to eye, we are really close and we always have been, especially since my mom died when I was a kid. After the attack, I was in pain and I was scared and I wanted to be around someone I could trust. True, he can be tough, but I know he cares about me, especially when it counts the most.”

  Detective Sands looked at her a minute. “Sorry about your mother.” He cleared his throat and continued. “But he didn’t drive you. Mrs. DeWitt and a woman named Minette drove you?”

  “Yes. Minette was in the process of moving out of her business yesterday. At least, I think she was. There were all of these big cardboard boxes in the alley behind Callie’s Kitchen when I got to work yesterday. I didn’t get a chance to ask her about it, I just assumed.” Sands raised his eyebrows and Callie trailed off uncertainly. The detective nodded at her to continue.

  “Anyway, Minette and Mrs. DeWitt, you know her.” Sands bobbed his head briefly. “She’s got a foundation and the business school is named after her family. Plus she was – is – involved in choosing the winner for Taste of Crystal Bay.”

  Sands cleared his throat. “I’m not sure I could forget her if I wanted to. Why was Mrs. DeWitt in the area? Do you know?”

  “I have no idea.” What was she doing there with Minette? Good question. “I didn’t think to ask her. I was in pain and I was upset about losing my purse – and everything in it.”

  “So did these two ladies see anything of interest?”

  “They didn’t see anybody hit me, if that’s what you mean. At least, that’s what they told me.”

  “Now, what about the purse?” Sands asked, switching gears. “What all was in your handbag?”

  Callie took a sip of tea. “The usual stuff. My wallet, some makeup. Luckily, my house keys and business keys were in my pocket.” Callie sank back in her chair. “I may as well tell you, I had to get a new cell phone, but that was in my car. Whoever hit me didn’t get it.” She paused. “Anything of interest on the cell phone you took from me? Or Drew’s iPad?”

  “Hmm. We’ll see.” The detective’s expression was bland and Callie couldn’t read anything into it. Were they building a huge case against her but just didn’t have enough evidence yet? She rested her elbows on the table and hid her face in her hands.

  “Listen, just relax, Callie. One st
ep at a time,” Sands said. “Don’t get upset. Regarding your purse, you should know that we probably won’t recover it. You’ll want to cancel your credit cards and call your bank of course.”

  The bank. Just hearing about it made Callie think of Lucille and how both of them had shared a similar assault. “Do you think that the same person attacked both Lucille and me?”

  Sands looked right back at her. “Right now, Ms. Costas, I just follow up and try to find how and if things fit together. It could have been a random theft, or not. I don’t know.”

  Sands looked down at his notes and then passed the paper over for her to sign. “Your official statement on the assault and theft,” he said, handing her a pen. She signed quickly and handed the pen back to him. Their fingers brushed.

  “Well,” he said, standing up. “I’d better go. Lots of things to follow up on.” He raised one eyebrow at her.

  Callie stood up with him. “I’ll see you to the door.”

  Sands suddenly turned to her. “Callie, remember the last time I was here? I told you to be careful.” He narrowed his eyes at her meaningfully. “For example, don’t get any ideas about playing Nancy Drew. It’s dangerous.”

  Callie was surprised at his concern and also a little confused. If he thought she was guilty, why warn her to be careful? If he thought she was innocent, then why not return her items to her? “I’m being careful. I even sent my daughter to stay with her dad and his wife for a few days.”

  “Good.” Sands seemed pleased, but then he frowned. “Were they around yesterday near the time of the attack?”

  “Now that you mention it, yes. My ex-husband and his new wife had just picked up my daughter from my shop. They wouldn’t hurt me! They had Olivia with them. My daughter,” she clarified. “We’ve had an amicable divorce. My ex’s new wife loves me!” Callie said the last sarcastically, and Sands gave her a sardonic smile.

  “Lucky you.” Sands leaned in closer and put his hand on her shoulder. “I’m glad you weren’t seriously injured. Just remember, next time you might not be so lucky.” He removed his hand, touched his fingers to his forehead in a mock salute and was out the door.