Éclair Case of Murder: A Culinary Cozy Mystery (A Rosie Kale Culinary Cozy Mystery Book 2)

by Leigh Selfman

  Nana rolled her eyes and motioned to the trays of goodies that were on a tall cart. “Honey, grab those trays and start setting up the table on the other side of the room. And no snacking on any.”

  “I wouldn’t dare,” I said, looking at the beautiful desserts that were all in ivory and gold tones to match the ballroom’s décor.

  “And get a move on. The people will be arriving in soon.”

  I went to the other side of the room and began placing the cakes and cake balls and cupcakes on their pretty ivory stands and tiered plates. The whole room was filled with twinkling lights and stunning ivory-colored flowers all of which gave it a soft, gauzy appearance that was neither fussy nor overdone.

  As I arranged the lace and cameo-decorated ivory cupcakes, I mused over the kind of people who would choose this décor. My guess was that the happy couple would be just as beautiful and elegant as the surroundings. And as I soon found out, I was right.

  About an hour later, the Wrights arrived, looking like movie stars.

  He was a handsome man of about forty five, with David Duchovny-esque hair and looks. She was a slim, classic-looking beauty with blonde highlighted hair and a thin tennis player body that was poured into a silver Armani dress.

  They both had a real presence. Even if they hadn’t been the guests of honor, your eyes would have gone right to them, even in a crowd of hundreds. As the 150 guests dined on salmon and prime rib in the huge ballroom and danced to Sinatra and other romantic classics, I found it hard to look away from the perfect couple.

  After dinner, an older man stood up to make a toast. He spoke about the Wrights and how happy they were together. How they’d been married for 14 years and still looked at each other with love in their eyes.

  Then Dr. and Mrs. C. William Wright the Third got up to dance to their wedding song. They moved perfectly together as he led her across the dance floor, her silver dress, sparkling as she moved. She was looking up into his eyes as they flowed gracefully around the dance floor.

  As I watched them, I couldn’t help but wonder if I’d ever be that happily married to someone. Or if I’d ever be married at all.

  After a few more toasts, Mr. Wright himself got up and went to the mic. He told everyone how he knew the first time he saw Helen that his life would be changed forever. He still didn’t know how he got so lucky. It must have been a moment of irrationality on her part but she took a chance on him and he just hoped he never gave her a reason to regret it.

  Then he pulled her anniversary gift out of his pocket. And as he held it up, he said that though gold and ivory were symbolic for the fourteenth anniversary, he hoped she wouldn’t mind some diamonds as well. Then he presented her with a gorgeous diamond and pearl necklace from Henri’s.

  The wife, Helen, was. She hurried up to her husband and gave him a big kiss. Everyone applauded. And as the happy couple went to dance again, she grabbed the microphone and said that contrary to popular belief, Chuck never had given her a reason to regret saying yes.

  I turned to one of the guests and frowned, “Chuck? I thought the husband’s name was William.”

  “It is,” the woman said as she reached for a mini cupcake. “It’s Charles William Wright. He goes by William. Though of course Helen calls him Chuck. Always has.”

  As I watched the couple dancing, my mind began to race.

  The diamond necklace…

  Chuck…

  It’s our anniversary…

  My brain might have been slow due to my screwy schedule lately, but it finally put the pieces together…and hit me with jolt.

  The woman I’d spoken to on the phone at the crisis center was Helen Wright. My caller was this beautiful blonde wife.

  It seemed impossible—she looked so happy. And so in love. But the coincidences were too many to deny.

  Not only had the woman on the phone mentioned her anniversary party tonight, but she'd also mentioned a diamond necklace that her cheating husband Chuck had bought for her.

  Without stopping to think, I grabbed a plate of cake balls and did a turn around the room while keeping my eye on the happy couple.

  When they finished dancing I brought the tray over to them. “Would you like to try an amaretto cake ball?” I asked with a smile.

  “I’d love one,” Helen Wright said as she delicately lifted a napkin off my tray with a pale manicured hand. A graceful diamond bracelet dangled from her wrist.

  Unfortunately, I couldn’t tell from the few words she spoke whether she had the same voice as the lady on the phone or not.

  I offered one to William or ‘Chuck’ as she called her husband, but he shook his head, ‘no’. Then he went to join some gentlemen on the patio to smoke cigars as Helen joined a group of her friends.

  As she laughed with her girlfriends and showed off her new necklace, I watched her, totally amazed. I was more certain than ever that she was the same woman I’d spoken to that morning. But it didn’t make sense. This woman looked so happy.

  Maybe she and Chuck had made up. Or maybe she’d never been as suicidal as she sounded on the phone. Whatever it was, I was hugely relieved that she appeared to be out of danger.

  I would of course still show up at the crisis center the next night, just in case she called back. But my sense was that she was happy and in love and the crisis was over. At least for now.

  I had much more energy as I walked over to the dessert table where Nana was standing. I guess I didn’t realize just how much that call had been weighing on me until the weight was lifted.

  “Nana,” I said. “I’m so glad I came here." I gave her a big hug.

  “Aw, I’m happy too, sweetie.” She pushed my hair behind my ears. “Nice party isn’t it?”

  “It is,” I agreed.

  “Too bad Casey’s not here. It would be nice for him to see how nice marriage can be.”

  I couldn’t help but laugh. “Right Nana. Because everything is all about me getting married off. You need to stop worrying about it so much.”

  “Well someone has to worry about it. You’re certainly not.”

  “No, I’m not,” I said. “I’m not worrying about anything right now.”

  As the party wound down some time later, I overheard Helen saying her goodbyes to an older woman in a pale, pink skirt suit. She was telling the woman how excited she was to see someone named Sammy. She even mentioned that she’d gotten tickets for them for the air show for the following Tuesday.

  I couldn’t help but smile at this, pleased at the idea that she was making future plans.

  As the room emptied out, and the guests of honor left, I looked at my watch and smiled to myself.

  It was another late night, but at least tonight I would be able to sleep more easily.

  Chapter 5

  I arrived at the crisis center the next day feeling happy, energized and excited to tell Celia all about the anniversary party the night before. I was especially excited to tell her about Helen, who I was certain was our caller.

  I couldn’t help but feel that maybe the things I’d said to her had actually made a difference. Maybe I’d given her just enough of a pep talk to get through the hardest times and now things were going to be different for her.

  I buzzed the doorbell outside the small, three story yellow building and after a moment, the automatic door unlocked and I walked inside. I headed upstairs to the crisis center offices, where I saw Celia standing near her desk.

  “Hey, Celia,” I called out. “Guess what? I have some good news.” But as I got closer I realized that she wasn’t alone. Someone was sitting at her desk. Though whoever it was, wasn’t visible behind the high partition.

  “Rosie,” Celia said, taking a step towards me. She had a serious expression on her face, and there was something in her tone that set me on edge. My good mood from the moment before vanished like a sock in the laundry. It was replaced by a sense of deep foreboding.

  Celia glanced over to the person behind the partition and a moment later, he stood up
. It was detective Sanders of the San Coronado police. I knew him from the recent homicide I’d helped solve.

  “Miss Kale,” he said with a nod. Something about his long handlebar moustache and sad eyes always made me think of a mournful seal.

  “What’s going on?” I managed to utter. I had the definite feeling that something was wrong. Very wrong. And whatever it was, it had to do with me.

  “Rosie,” Celia said, walking over and putting her hand gently on my arm. “Why don’t you sit down.”

  Her suggestion only served to make me more nervous.

  Sitting was the last thing I wanted to do, but I could see they were both waiting and they weren’t going to tell me what was going on until I did. So I took a chair at the desk next to them, feeling like my heart was about to burst out of my chest.

  “I have some questions about that call you took yesterday,” Detective Sanders said. “About the woman who said she wanted to kill herself.”

  “Why?” I blurted out. I was unable to contain my dread any longer. “Please, just tell me what’s going on. You guys are making me really nervous.”

  “Rosie,” Celia said gently. “We’re not sure, but we think the woman—the one who called two days ago…we think she killed herself this morning.”

  I stared at them dumbstruck.

  “No, that’s impossible.” I held onto the desk for support, feeling dizzy and queasy all at once. “That can’t be. I just saw her last night at a party. That’s what I was going to tell you when I came in. I saw her and she was fine. She was happy. I’m sure of it.”

  “You’re saying you knew the woman that called?” Detective Sanders was stroking his moustache and frowning at me.

  “No, I didn’t know her. I was helping my Nana dessert-cater an event—an anniversary party—and I recognized her as the caller. At least I think it was her.”

  “The Wright anniversary?” the Detective asked, looking at me intently.

  “Yes, the Wright anniversary at the Riviera Country Club."

  I slumped back in my chair. He knew her name which meant that it was really her. And that she was really dead.

  “What made you think Mrs. Wright was your caller?” Sanders asked.

  “Well I didn’t realize it was her at first,” I said, trying to control the shaking of my hands. “But then I remembered that caller mentioned something about an anniversary party. And a diamond necklace. And that her husband’s name was Chuck and he was a doctor.” I looked up at the detective. “That was really her, wasn’t it?”

  Both Celia and the detective nodded.

  “Yes. Mrs. Helen Wright killed herself early this morning." Sanders said. “We’re not sure of the exact time yet.”

  I blinked back tears and nodded sadly.

  “Her son was unable to wake her up when he came home from boarding school this morning. He called 911 but it was too late. Mrs. Wright was already dead,” the detective said.

  I took a few shallow breaths, feeling dizzy and nauseous. My mind was crowded with unanswered questions as I tried to make sense of it all.

  Celia pulled a chair over and sat down next to me and then gently took my hand in hers and looked me in the eyes. “Rosie, this is in no way your fault. You did everything you could for that caller. Now I already gave Detective Sanders my impressions of the call, and he has your notes on it as well—the ones you wrote down after the call. But he wants your take on it too. Just tell him whatever you remember.”

  I nodded and looked up at the detective who was watching me. “Exactly what did she say to you about killing herself?”

  I tried to remember just what she'd said but the emotions crowding my mind made it hard to think. Though one of the big selling points of the crisis hotline was the fact that they didn’t tape their calls—in a situation like this it really would have been helpful.

  I looked down into my lap and thought about it. “She...she just sounded really upset. She…er, Helen…said that she had nothing in her life. Nothing to live for. She thought her husband was cheating on her. He’d bought an expensive necklace and she thought he was going to give it to his mistress. She said it would be so easy to just end it.”

  “Did she mention how she’d do it?’ the detective asked.

  I nodded. “She said she had some antidepressants that her husband, Chuck, had their doctor prescribe for her. She said it would be so easy to just blend them into a smoothie and drink it all down.”

  Neither the detective nor Celia said anything.

  “Is that what Mrs. Wright did? Did she take an overdose of her antidepressants?”

  The detective nodded. “She killed herself in exactly the way she told you she would. She blended her pills into a smoothie and drank them down.”

  Chapter 6

  After the detective left, I sat in my chair, still feeling dazed. Celia had a call to take and though I felt bad about adding to her workload, I really needed to talk to her some more.

  I just couldn’t wrap my mind around it all—how the happy smiling wife from the party could have gone home that night and killed herself. It didn’t make any sense.

  A few minutes later, Celia hung up from her call and came over to sit down.

  “Rosie,” she said in her gentle crisis-center voice. “I meant what I said earlier. None of this is your fault. I heard you on that call. You did everything you could to help that caller.”

  I nodded and looked into Celia’s kind eyes. They were so sweet and sincere—it was no wonder she was so successful at her job. If only she had answered the call.

  “But she seemed so happy at the party,” I said. “That’s what I came in all excited to tell you this morning. It seems so stupid now but I was sure I’d saved her.” I let out a bitter laugh.

  Celia sighed. “Sometimes that happens. It’s part of it.”

  I looked at her, not understanding and she explained that sometimes when someone has actually decided to kill themselves, it’s like a weight has been lifted from their shoulders. “Often, when a person finally makes the decision to go through with it, they’re happier than they’ve been in ages. Because they’re so relieved to have made the choice.”

  I nodded, trying my best to believe her, to accept that that’s what happened with Helen, but somehow I just couldn’t.

  “I want you to go on home,” Celia said, squeezing my hand. “You need to process this. Believe me, it’s hard enough when it happens to a pro. I wish I never asked you to take that call on Friday.”

  “Me too,” I said with a sad smile. I stood up to leave. “Celia, how did the police even know that she’d called the crisis line?”

  “The detective told me they checked her home phone records. They spotted the call she made here at 1:00pm on Friday.”

  As I grabbed my bag to leave, she gave me a hug and then looked me in the eyes. “You call me if you need to talk. Okay, Rosie? Don’t hesitate.”

  I nodded. “Thanks,” I said. Then I headed out.

  Chapter 7

  As I left the crisis center, I thought about going to the bakery to tell Nana and Birdie about what had happened—but then decided not to. I knew it would only upset them, especially after we’d catered the anniversary. Word would be out soon enough anyway and I was suddenly beyond exhausted. I couldn’t imagine doing anything more strenuous than going home and taking a nap.

  At home, I made myself a glass of chocolate milk then curled up with my cat, Cupcake, on the sofa and turned on the TV. Not that I was in the mood to watch anything—I just needed the noise as a distraction. I needed something to take my mind off the queasy feeling in the pit of my stomach—the one that told me I was responsible for another person’s death. The one that said that a person in need had come to me for help and I was unable to save her.

  No matter how rationally Celia had explained that it wasn’t my fault, or how many times I told myself the same thing, that sick feeling just wouldn’t go away.

  After a two hour nap I awoke feeling slightly more clearhe
aded. I checked my phone and saw a text from Casey reminding me that he would be back in town at 10:00pm. I couldn’t wait to see him.

  I’d planned on cooking a celebration meal for him (or at least buying a celebratory meal and pretending I’d cooked it) but I was no longer in the mood to celebrate. Though I wanted to see him, now more than ever, it was more a case of having a desperate need for a hug and shoulder to lean on than anything else. Luckily his shoulders were big, strong and available for leaning, and I was counting the hours till he came back.

  I was just about to get up from the couch and go out for a run, when I noticed that Patsy Blair, the perky newswoman from channel four, was on my TV. She was standing outside a large mansion, frowning somberly towards the camera.

  With a growing sense of dread, I turned up the sound.

  “…and so… after a late-night celebration for their fourteenth anniversary, the Wrights returned home to this Maple street mansion – where at six this morning, the body of Mrs. Helen Wright was discovered by her young son, dead, of an apparent suicide.”

  I sat back on the couch, unable to look away, as the camera focused in on the elegant mansion. Then it panned back to the Patsy as she continued her tragic tale.

  “By all accounts, Mrs. Wright appeared to be happy and carefree at her party last night, dancing and celebrating the night away. However in a News Four exclusive, we have learned earlier on the day of her anniversary party, Helen Wright made a call to the local crisis hotline, telling them that she intended kill herself. Sadly the crisis counselor who answered the phone was not able to help, and Helen Wright’s life was cut tragically short. And now, back to you, Chet.”

  It was now Chet Humperdink’s turn to look toward the camera as he sat at the News Four desk. He intoned in a low, somber voice. “That’s a true tragedy, Patsy. Do we have any idea why the crisis center didn’t do more to save Mrs. Wright’s life?”

  “As yet, we don’t know why the crisis center dropped the ball, Chet. But we do know that the phone call was answered by a rookie. We’ll be looking into that further, Chet.”